Rays 9, Yankees 7

Lee Jr.'s first game at the new Stadium!

We had an awful time getting up to the park today. I (we) decided to try a different route than usual, with the boy/stroller coming along and all. Seemed like the 1-to-uptown 2-to-4 with the elevator finish would make a nice trip. I had doubts as soon as we left the apartment, spouting tell-tale lines like "this is the old school way to go" (in other words, I never go this way any more).

I'm not blaming the route, but things weren't smooth. We waited for almost a half hour for the downtown 1 at 110th (including a dreaded honker-- a train that speeds by without stopping because it's so fucking crowded), and barely squeezed on with the damn stroller. The up-and-down transfer at 96th was predictably sucky, but at least Mz got a seat with the boy so she could finish feeding him his little jar of food. I even got a chance to sit down at around 125th, but minutes later some bitch in a headdress plopped down into the foot-wide space next to me, nearly popping her fat ass on the keys in my pocket. Then it was two more sets of stairs, a claustro-ride for one stop on the 4, and finally an absurd round of elevator rides. I think the MTA's elevators are generally excellent, but there's a lot of room for error if you don't know exactly what you're doing. How am I supposed to know where the "Mezzanine" is and whether that's really where I want to get off?

Luckily the space-age elevators inside the Stadium don't leave any doubt in one's mind. They kick ass. It's almost unfair.

LJ fell asleep as we rolled around the Grandstand concourse, not really sure if we should even bother trying to sit in our seats with him. We bit the bullet and checked his stroller at Guest Services (super easy) and carried the little potato-sack up to row 14. He snoozed for a bit longer, and woke up during some stupid game on the scoreboard. They still have a lot of work to do on that board-- everything ends up looking like a metal band's live album cover. They still have the same schizo font situation going on, and damned if I can't ever figure out what the fucking count is.

We left at the end of the 8th, just as "Enter Sandman" started to pump through the speakers. These are the kind of moves one makes when you bring children to baseball games. I did this gladly and of my own free will-- either you understand thsi or you don't.

Not sure what to say about Mariano, although the words "exit strategy" keep popping into my mind. Might get ugly at some point.