By Phantom of Yankee Stadium

$25 tickets. Sit anywhere you want. Yes please.

On September 13th, the Yankees faced off against the Rays in Citi field. It was the third game of the unusual series that pushed the Rays to queens in the wake of Hurricane Irma. The Tampa Bay refugees were the “hometeam”, though the stadium was packed with Yankees fans. Game time was 1:10 pm.

The game was a great one. Jamie Garcia pitched his best game in pinstripes, but got pulled early, and made the news. The bombers pulled out a close win, 3–2.

This article is not about the game. It’s about what happened in the stands. When the MLB offered their $25 for any seat deal, they let the riff raff in. The denizens of the cheap seats were in the front row.

This is the story of what happens when you let the riff raff in.

My wife and I jumped at the opportunity to sit in seats we normally couldn’t afford, and watch the Yankees the way the fancy people do. We managed to find two tickets at field level, a few rows behind the Rays’ dugout. They would be the best seats I’ve ever been in, in my entire life.

The train in was packed with Yankees hats and uniforms. The stadium was bustling and chaotic. The usual sifting of people by class that happens when finding seats, just didn’t happen this time. Everyone was going everywhere.

When we got to our seats, the section was already just about filled. There was a little shared excitement between all of us that we were sneaking a peak into a vantage point that wasn’t meant for us. The players were running sprints, warming up, and hanging out, feet away from us.

Right from the start, my wife and I started picking up on some of the people in our section who were going to be loud. Mostly because they were already loud and the game hadn’t even started yet.

There was this one guy in particular who was just one of those guys. His baseline was a completely inappropriate noise level. I could hear this dude casually discussing the popcorn he was eating, from an aisle and a few rows over. He talked at the volume that most people yell.

Things were fairly uneventful in the beginning. Normal crowd noise. Little kids begging for the warmup balls. People pestering the Rays for attention. I was trying to catch the ear of Rays’ first base coach, Rocco Baldelli. I had him on my first fantasy team in 2004. Rocco Baldelli. Remember that guy? I sure do.

A little bit of tension started showing when Logan Morrison popped out of the dugout. Our whole section exploded in jeers and insults. It got pretty nasty. Before long, though, everyone settled down. A few agitators were still lobbing verbal abuse LoMo’s way, including Loud Guy, but for the most part everyone went back to their business. LoMo and the rest of the Rays were ignoring the fans, and all was well.

1:10 rolled around and the game was underway. I’m not sure when the line was crossed from normal to insane, but I know who crossed it. Loud Guy was the main bad influence, but there were others. Mostly the drinkers, but some natural assholes were in a constant state of mockery and negativity towards the Rays. As the game worked into its middle innings, everyone got drunker, and the venom just got louder and meaner. The vast majority of it was targeted at LoMo, who was right there, at first base.

While the Rays players weren’t reacting, you could tell it was getting under their skins. They were in their dugout, losing a close game. They weren’t smiling and slapping each others’ backs the way they were during warmup. In not reacting, it was obvious that they could hear what was going on behind them. There was stress there.

The first really notable thing that happened had nothing to do with any players. Angel Hernandez was behind the plate. From our angle, it was impossible to tell if he was making good calls. That didn’t stop loud guy from insisting, that he was not. And in fact, according to Mr. Loud Man, his calls were the worst shit calls in the history of baseball.

“Hey Angel, baseball should be suing you!”

Angel Hernandez raised his hand to the Garcia, pausing the game. He got out of position and directed himself at Loud Guy, staring him down from behind his mask. I was sure Loud Guy was about to get thrown out of the stadium. He wasn’t. Something even better happened.

Angel Hernandez grabbed his crotch and thrust it at Loud Guy. It was hard and aggressive. Loud Guy didn’t like that at all and started making a ruckus. Angel just kept grabbing and thrusting. Loud Guy wasn’t able to do anything but rage. Everyone else was freaking out. We didn’t know what to do or who to root for, so we all just made noise.

The game resumed, but the ump war didn’t end. Loud Guy continued screaming at Angel. Angel took time between batters to grab his crotch at Loud Guy.

At some point, Steven Souza Jr. pissed off our entire side of the stadium. I missed what exactly happened. He snubbed someone with a game ball after out 3 or something. It was a wall of sound in response. Security tightened, bracing for anything that may happen. The section wasn’t quiet again for the rest of the game.

The Rays scored a couple runs, but were still down. The innings were running out. The dugout before us was dour. The crowd was in complete tumult, hundreds of drunk, riled fans shrieking at the players. Then LoMo broke.

It started with a little bit of back talk. You don’t feed the beast for a reason. The answer was ear-shattering. LoMo tried yelling back, but it was drowned out by the deluge of sound. Voices were indistinguishable, it was a pure cacophony. It looked like someone set LoMo to mute, because his mouth was moving, but his voice was lost to the crowd.

Other players joined in, but it only served to egg on the mob. Security strained at the front of the seating area. Someone sloshed their beer at the dugout. It splashed on the roof, but got close enough to bring out the rage in the Rays. LoMo tossed his own of water into the crowd. It may have actually made contact with a hostile, but it wasn’t clear. The fury blew out and the aimless noise became a unified voice: “FINE HIM! FINE HIM!”

Security brought things down somewhat, but not completely. The episode was over, but the mob remained. Over all the chaos, Loud Guy’s voice reigned. It floated above the masses and rung clear.

Loud Guy turned his ire on Steven Souza Jr. At this point in the game, Steven Souza reacted.

“Hey Souza! I’ll see you next week!” The Rays and Yankees had another series in the Bronx coming up.

“Oh yeah? I’ll be right there!” Souza gestured to right field.

“I’ll be in the bleachers, with the bleacher creatures!”

“I’ll be there!”

“You better bring a helmet.”

The game ended, and the vitriol began to dissipate. The crowd filed up and out of the section. Astoundingly, the Rays, Souza Jr. in particular, stuck around to sign a few autographs and engage with friendly fans that pushed up against the netting in the front row.

Steven Souza Jr. made his way to the dugout for the final time. The section was empty save for a few stragglers. A short, fragile young man shambled up to the front row.

“Hey Souza.” The young man said with a gentle, beer soaked voice.

Steven Souza Jr. looked up.

“You’re never gonna make more than league minimum you bum!”

Souza Jr. disappeared into the clubhouse.

Turns out $25 gets you a whole lot.