Living in coronavirus world 119: opening day

7/23

Harlem Mural

The optometrist offcies are now open. It’s been  too long since I’ve had an eye exam. That’s enough to get me out of the house.

Magic Johnson Theatre

.....changing the things I cannot accept...

Hand shake no, Harlem Shake Yes.

the latest from Atlah

I notice all the plywood is gone from the 125th Street shops. Except for the Magic Johnson Theatre whose protective plywood has become a community message/graffiti board.I love the flow of life up and down 125th. The ubiquitous Black Lives Matter shirt vendors, the phrase of the summer. I stop at my bank and then to the storied  Harlem Shake for a hot dog to celebrate the opening of baseball season. I choose a Snoop Dogg, smothered with chili and cheese. Halfway down Lenox, I realize that I left my kinte cloth mask at the Shake. I go back, but too late. I stop to see the latest wisdom from Atlah then decide against ice cream and head home.

It’s the opening (at last ) of baseball season. I last saw a game on my way out of Florida March 7th. Everything shut down week later. 

In the Yankees-Nationals game from DC,  Dr. Anthony Fauci is invited to throw the first pitch. His throw is wild as a virus. Someone will later say he didn’t want anyone to catch anything. Both teams took a knee holding a long black ribbon, then rose together for the National Anthem. I was impressed that in the later game, Giants manager Gabe Kapler and several player remained kneeling.  New Dodger Mookie Betts remained kneeling, teammates hands on his shoulder. The initials BLM on the mound in Washington. Players are wearing either Black Lives Matter or United for Change patches or both. I love the market penetration of Black Lives Matter, but please don’t let it be too easy.

Sometimes I feel I am ordering things online just to have the pleasure of waiting for things to be delivered and surprised on any day. Like the little boy waiting for the Wells Fargo Wagon in theMusic Man. “….or it could be something special  just for me…”

I am upset to see Mariani Rivera as a special  White House guest  of the President. Having a catch with him. Mariano was the quintessence of all that can be good about a ballplayer. Quiet. Focused. Determined. A good teammate. The perfect closer. The last player to wear Jackie’s number, 42. A true Yankee, as they say. Like the essence of decency. I was gifted  a photo of Mariano’s farewell. Behind him I can see my regular seats. It’s a beautiful photo of one of those players who meant a lot to me like Clemente, Jeter, McCutchen. But I haven’t had the heart to put it on my wall. It remains on the floor behind a table and lamp. Because of his inexplicable friendship with the President. Or all too explicable. Somewhere along the line he became a born again evangelical and has-been probably convinced by a beloved pastor that  the he owes allegiance  to this President who is the opposite of everything  I hold holy. 

I don’t understand why Mario can’t see what this President has done to people of his color. To people who speak his language. To immigrants just like him. I don’t believe there is a mean bone in Mariano Rivera’s body I believe he wants to be a good, decent and faithful man. But playing ball with Trump feels like a betrayal of all that. The picture stays on the floor, out of sight. 

I’m shocked when my son texts me to let me know the President has been invited to throw out a first pitch on August 15 against the Red Sox at Yankee Stadium. He wants to go to the stadium to protest. So Yankee’s President Randy Levine is “friends” with the President. What is he thinking? Can anyone still imagine  this is a normal President? One where even if we had widely divergent understandings of political directions,  there was a basic respect for the office because the office holder respected the office. Where standard courtesies would still be extended  because the officeholder is courteous? That the President truly IS the President of all of us and somehow represents all of us? Can anyone still believe that? He doesn't even care.

I thought the final death knell of any semblance of democracy was the day I realized we put children into cages. We do that. And how much more there was to come. Today federal military personnel under the aegis of Homeland Security are patrolling the streets of our cities with no ids and unmarked vans pulling people out at random. Ponder that into you believe it. That’s where we are.  I don’t know what world Levine thinks we’re living in. I’ve spent much too many dollars on the Yankees in my 25 years here.  I'm actually a "partial season ticket holder." This all feels so disrespectful of all of us who sat through years of the gritty democracy of the old Yankee Stadium though sun and snow. We tolerate the Taj Mahal Las Vegas style “Yankee Experience” that seeks to mimic the old stadium while creating a new temple of income inequality across the street from where Mantle, Ruth, Berra and Bernie played the field.  If you’re calling out a rally, I’ll be there.