New York Yankees, 1989
Hunter Dula, Delphine's cousin, went to New York with Johnnie and Delphine in 1989. Besides Phantom of the Opera, the Yankees were a prime objective.
Having lived in the city sixteen years earlier, Delphine at least knew which train to take from Central Park, but the one they got on was an express. It glided through the Bronx with the greatest of ease, and left the required station far behind. They had to get off in a run-down area, cross over and take a slower south-bound train back.
A mass of people converged on Yankee stadium and walked right through the gates, which had just opened a few minutes before. The sunglasses being offered as a promo item were somewhat tacky, and Hunter started to say, "No thanks." But Delphine stepped up and got him to take them anyway.
They found their seats in the rightfield, a couple of rows back from the wall in fair territory. They spent the time remaining before the National Anthem buying food and chatting with two couples behind them.
As the game got uder way, it was clear the Milwaukee Brewers had the Yankees' number that day. Right away the score started climbing toward it's 10-2 final. But fans around Johnnie, Delphine and Hunter made it interesting by yelling down to outfielder Jesse Barfield directly below them.
The at one point, future Brewers' Hall of Famer Robin Yount hit a home run that just missed Johnnie's outstretched hand, bounced off some seats and landed directly behind him. The lady behind Johnnie, a wfie from the two coupled they'd chatted with during the pregame, picked the ball up with both hands.
As she stood looking down at it, a man from behind her reached over her, pryed her fingers apart and took the baseball away. He walked down his row and handed the baseball to his son.
Johnnie looked in amazement at the woman's husband, who didn't seem to show the least interest. For an instant, Johnnie regretted he hadn't punched the man when his face was bent less than two feet away as he stole the ball.
"You're one low-grade ________," Johnnie yelled, hoping to recall his mistake of seconds earlier and start a fight anyway. The ball thief half smirked, half shrugged.
Delphine was not event that reserved. She turned to the ball thief's son, who was examining his ill-gotten goods. "Never forget how you got that ball," she said. "Your dad is a thief. He took a baseball away from a woman."
From that point on, it was impossible to concentrate on the game. Eventually Johnnie started calling the man "Andy Kaufman, The World's Greatest Lady Wrestler." Delphine spent the next half hour educating everyone within 50 feet of the man's behavior. Hunter Dula, a gnetleman in even the most extreme circumstances seemed embarrassed by the whole thing.
The ball thief, beseiged on all sides, did proffer an explanation to the Coxes after a while. "You just do these things for your kids, you know."
"Well, then," said Johnnie, "there's a little kid in the upper deck with another ball. Why don't you grab that for your other boy?"
At last the man left with everyone in the whole section booing him.
Fenway Park, 2001
Johnnie and Delphine visited Fenway Park in Boston in spring of 2001. Naturally, they hurried out to left field to get pictures of the famous green monster. What you never hear about, though, and what you can't see on television, is that the smaller green wall in straight-away centerfield, the one up behind the stands, is metal. It looks like wood from a distance, but it's metal.
Their seats happened to be in centerfield, against that back wall. In her unusal no-stranger way, Delphine struck up a conversation with four local Boston guys, regulars to the park. One fascinating behaviour the Coxes observed of the Boston fans, the four guys included, was that at intense moments - such as Manny Ramirez coming to bat - they would all turn around and bang on the metal wall. The sound reverberated through the stadium even louder than the foot-stoming bleecher sound at football games.
Just thought you should know.
New York Yankees, 2001
On the same Amtrack tour through the northeast that brought them to Fenway, J and D also saw Shea in New York and Camden Yards in Baltimore. Yankee Stadium hadn't been on the agenda, because the Yankees were out of town and they had already seen the stadium in 1989. But they couldn't resist the tour anyway.
So the Coxes found themselves herded along with maybe thirty other people visiting the locker room, the dugout and famous Monument Park in the outfield. It was thouroughly enjoyable except for Delphine's annoyance at some young lady from Atlanta, who spent much of the time sobbing loudly because of "the impact of all this history."
Sidling ahead in the group to get away from the crier, J and D found themselves among the monuments of retired-jersey players. There were other monuments, of course, but the row of retired jerseys was the most amazing sight. Each pedestal was about three feet high, the top part being an angled metal rectangle with the jersey number. The top was supported on a square metal post about six inches on a side and maybe a foot to a foot and a half high.
Delphine walked quickly down along the jersey monuments and up into the landscaped area to snap some pictures. Johnnie made his way slowly along the jersey monuments, reading about each of the Yankee ledgends.
A man to Johnnie's left spoke to him uncertainly. From the ameretto color of his skin and his accent, it was beyond doubt that the man's ancestors lived in India and that he himself had lived most if not all of his life in Australia.
"Pardon, me," the man said. "Can you tell me if these men are actually buried here."
Delphine, returning from her foray ahead, stiffled a snicker with her hand.
"I don't think so," Johnnie offered. "Especially since those last three guys down there are still alive." What the heck, Johnnie thought. Who could blame him? After more than fifty years wondering, he himself had never figured out the basic rules of cricket.
