Yankees Suck

One of my first jobs was at Fenway Park. My buddy Dave Randall and I got jobs working for the company that cleaned the stands after the game. We were 14 at the time. The perk of this job was that you could get into the park free after the 8th inning, watch the end of the game, and then make $1.00 per hour sweeping up.

The first (and as it turned out - only) day on the job turned out to be a night game. I cannot recall much about the evening other than the fact that we did not get out of there until the wee hours. Trolley cars did not run with great frequency during those wee hours, and thus we did not get home until the morning sun was rising. This unfortunate commuting problem prompted our mothers to forbid us from returning to the job.

I did learn one skill of lasting value that night: how to sweep. You take it for granted, but there is a science to sweeping with a broom. (Let the tips of the bristles do the work, don't bend them, and you can sweep up even sticky ice cream wrappers.) Many times in my life, I have been called upon to sweep things up. Much of my military service and training was devoted to the art of waxing and buffing hallways and KP duty. But I digress.

I was reminded of my occupational roots under the green monster recently. In the paper and on TV there has been some earnest discussion about the rise in vulgarity associated with the passionate rivalry between the Red Sox and the despised Yankees. Apparently, loyal fans have taken to chanting "Yankees Suck," during games - even when the Sox are playing other teams. Other (less complimentary) slogans have been seen printed on tee shirts in and around the park. Perhaps the heightened passions are fed by the frustrations many citizens have with their shitty jobs, the current tenor of political discourse, or just as likely, the outrageous costs for a seat, a beer, and a slice of bad pizza at any professional sporting event.

Vulgarity is really nothing new among sports fans. It isn't just an characteristic of the rabble at Fenway either. Another job I had as a teenager was selling programs at Harvard Stadium during Ivy League games. I remember being shocked by the Harvard (probably freshmen) chanting "Dartmouth Sucks," to the dismay of the stodgy Crimson alums.

Also, just a few years ago I recall being at a Sox game when a gal several rows behind us started lifting her shirt to proudly expose her new boob job. She was determined to get on camera. In the end, to a chorus of boos, a uniformed usher came to escort her out of the park, but not before there were several rounds of adjacent sections yelling, "Show us your tits!" - to which she gladly complied.

Most of the other guys in the stands seemed to enjoy the spectacle, except one young father who had brought his two pre-adolescent sons to actually watch the baseball game. Like, me, those kids probably do not recall who the Sox were playing or how the game turned out, but we all came away from the park with an unforgettable memory.

Hmmn. I wonder how much they are paying these days for an experienced broomsman.