A Trip to Ricky Ledee's Old Stomping Grounds

Last night I went to the Bronx and personally watched Cliff Lee and the Indians systematically shut down the New York Yankees. It was the last Cleveland night game at Yankee Stadium ever (history!). I haven't been to Jacobs/Progressive Field since the last game of the 2005 season (when the team completed their fine late season meltdown) but last night I was surrounded by so many Indians fans it seemed at times I was in Ohio. I could have heard John Adams and not even thought twice about it. Don't get me wrong, I was still plenty exposed to the usual arrogant-ass Yankee fans. At one point I was even told by one that hiring Joe Girardi was a mistake and the team should have stuck it out with Joe Torre because "he had way more class." Comments like that are why I am so happy to be from Cleveland. If anyone ever said anything along those lines in Ohio they would be promptly told to shut the F' up. In NY though, its a legitimate argument. "Joe Torre is a class act, he drinks expensive wine, goes to more Operas and always looks you in the eye when he shakes your hand. Why would you get rid of him?"

Also noteworthy is the fact I was almost borderline arrested minutes after the final out. I partially blame Indians radio announcer Mike Heagan for what happened. Here's how it went down: Rafael Betancourt records the save and as "New York, New York" starts playing I do what any Cleveland fan within eyesight of Hegan would do: I shout his name over and over and over. He doesn't respond though, not even a wave, which was all I really wanted. So for like 5 minutes I would shout "Hegan, hey Mike Hegan", then take a dance break to celebrate the Tribe win, and shout "Heagan" some more. An usher came over and told my buddy and me we had to leave but I just smiled and ignored him. I then went back to work on Hegan. No response. Maybe he really couldn't hear me. Still though, I feel like if this were Tom Hamilton I would've gotten some action. Hamilton probably would've started waving back and then climb out of the press box, scale the upper deck awning, come over to my section and give me a high five.

As I screamed my lungs out I noticed my buddy shuffling away and as I looked to my right I saw why. It was a cop -- and he was pissed. "You were told to leave now get out of here! If you want to stay you can stay across the street at Central Booking! Blah blah blah blah blah," he said as he followed me up the stairs. "Geez Louise officer, I was hurting anyone. Just yelling at a baseball game, kind of what your suppose to do" (is what I should have said instead of "I appologize"). Anyway he was a total dick and I know that wouldn't happen in Cleveland. Maybe its a "class" thing.