Yankees 7, Cubs 4

I was totally late to the game, missing first pitch and god knows what else by about 5 minutes. I had a dr's appt. on the upper east side at 4pm, coming from Brooklyn at 3:15. Bad math-- I was late to that too (which is why I was then late to the game). Had to take a cab with a crazy Pakistani driver jabbering at me the entire ride about cricket. Something about matches taking 50 hours... I have no idea.

I had a scheduled steroid IV, which can take anywhere from 45 minutes to several hours, depending on the drip setting. My last one took the minimum-- I tap danced out of the office like a speed freak. Maybe that's why he set this one super-slow. I didn't get out of there until 6:30, but got up to the Stadium as fast as humanly possible. Still five minutes late.

This might be a good time to talk about 'roids. The common belief is that steroids help you hit lots of home runs, cause your head swell like a balloon, and make you listen to Metallica. This hasn't been my experience at all: steroid megadoses cause me obsessively devour Times crosswords, eat everything in sight, and listen to old Police records. My iTunes Play Count had me at 29 listens of "J'aurais Toujours Faim De Toi" during my last infusion cycle, and I finished (tomorrow's) Saturday puzzle in 24 minutes on the 7 train.

I don't need drugs to tell you that the new Yankee Stadium is amazing. Aside from being corralled across the street by cops like 2nd graders, entry was uneventful. Hilarious overheard snippets: "Holy shit!", "This place is a fucking palace!", or "Everything with the fucking productions!!! Let us walk across the damn street for chrissakes!" Actual gate entry was slick and easy. I was barely frisked, although we had to scan our own tickets (which didn't even beep--suspicious...)

Kinda weird at first walking around. The surrounding halls outside the inner stadium have an airport kind of feel, almost like the Rogers Centre. For a second I was afraid we were going to have to drink our beers with straws and get yelled at for dropping a napkin on the floor. Also as in an airport, people were aimlessly drifting around and bumping into each other, except here it was beer that was spilling instead of coffee. No one knew where the hell they were going.

Me and Mz Mazz sat in great field boxes right behind home plate, but quickly emigrated to the grandstand when it started raining. When you become a parent, you do lame shit like that, even without the kid. Or I guess you start bringing umbrellas to places. Anyway, we met up with our old friends Heath and Karl in the upper deck. Had a few beers, compared notes, you know... we all seemed to agree that the place was top notch.

Here's some quick notes:

Beer was around $6 for a small (12 oz.) and $10ish for bigger (didn't seem like 24 oz., maybe 20?). Heath was bitching about the "souvenir" beers being in blue plastic cups, which surely were releasing all sorts of harmful chemicals into our beerstreams. I dismissed that one until my second souvie, when the bottom of my Miller started tasting like a frisbee.

Food was not yet fully operational, I hope. I think we went to the weaker of the food areas, as our choices were mainly dogs, fries, and "sliders". Mind you, these aren't delicious little White Castle-style burgers-- they're not burgers at all. They were completely out of the "beef sliders" but had chicken, which were basically chicken strips. Very strange. This was an example of a fundamental commerce failure: neither the consumer nor the seller had any idea what the product was called, looked like, or cost. Oh yeah, the number of calories contained in each item (terrifying!) are listed right next to the price, so it's kinda tough to tell them apart. I knew I wanted the chicken sliders, but I wasn't quite sure if they cost 1050 or 9.75.

Bathrooms were extraordinary. I don't hesitate to call the urinals beautiful, works of art. Certainly more works of art than the Peter Max Yankee Gallery, which has to be seen to be believed. The sinks worked, the soap shot out of the dispensers on command (usually onto the floor, but at least it existed), paper towels actually came out when you pulled the levers, and things were generally cheery and bright. An enjoyable experience.

Scoreboard is monolithic. Pretty confusing, as at least nine different fonts are used on the same giant screen. We went long stretches without having basic information: score, inning, count, etc. Seemed like a work in progress.

Sound is incredible. Only the "Hey fans..." spoken stuff between innings was ear-splitting; the music was gut-thumping. I can't wait to hear "Black Betty" on this system.

We didn't really explore a whole lot. That'll come two Saturdays from now, when Lee Jr., my dad and I bring three generations of Mazzolas up to the Bronx. More on that when it happens.