SECTION: Sports; Pg. 56

LENGTH: 574 words

HEADLINE: OF WHEELING, DEALING & REELING

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:


BY THE THIRD inning, with the Braves rounding the bases like cartoon characters on greenies, we started to turn on ourselves.

The bleacher creatures figured that Andruw Jones had to be our fault, somehow. If only we tip-toed slightly taller on our seats, screeched a little louder, spilled a bit more beer, the score could not be so ridiculous and this kid would go back to Curacao.

"Stand up!" screamed one creature, at those of us deflated enough to sit for just an instant. "This is the World Series." He was right, of course. I was lucky to be here, even if the night got late early and the stumbling drunks in the stands were not so amusing with an eight-run deficit.

It had not been easy gaining access to my beloved bleachers. The scalpers do not buy or sell these tickets, because the profit margin is itsy-bitsy. Fans who reside here do not have $ 500 to buy a used car, let alone heckle Jane Fonda.

So I wandered up and down the Bronx streets yesterday, begging to trade my expensive seat for a bleacher ticket.

And of course, there were no takers.

"You some kind of police?" one guy wanted to know.

My people, the creatures, gathered outside the gate and rallied to my cause. Eventually, we found a sucker, Tony Aracena, who was willing to deal his prime-time Section 39 seat, Ali Ramirez territory, for a stupid main reserved ticket.

When Game 1 began, I actually was feeling a little bad for Aracena. He did not speak English very well, and I'm not certain he understood the terrible thing that he had done.

But as the score widened, as the blotto guy in back of me slammed into the child to my side, I began to think that maybe Aracena didn't get such a terrible deal.

Blasphemy, I know.

Now don't get me wrong. I love the bleachers. I adore the Series.

We true-blue creatures couldn't help notice, however, there was something wrong about Game 1: A lot of unfamiliar faces were populating the right-field bleachers. A lot of people who didn't deserve to be amongst us.

"Bandwagon fans," grumbled John Hughes from the Bronx. "Guys who are grabbing all the merchandise off the shelves at Modell's. I'll take a lifelong Brave fan over these jerks." It was easy to spot the bandwagon fans. They brought something completely inappropriate, like an air horn or a seat cushion. They showed up 10 minutes before the start of the game, or in the first inning, some of them tanked to the gills.

They wore new Yankee caps, without the other necessary accessories. Where was their stained Yankee T-shirt? Their tattoo?

"And they're looking around, like, 'Hey, isn't this great?' " said Ted Ketcham, from Ridge on the Island.

Hughes had a real problem on his hands this week. His mother, normally a nice woman, turned into a bandwagon fan. She actually asked him for a ticket.

A total betrayal of trust.

"I had to do what was right," Hughes said. "I told her, 'Ma, this would be your first game of the season. I'd rather you didn't come.'

"If she wants, I'll start bringing her to games next spring," Hughes said. "That way, she can earn it."

Hughes' mother was not there for the Tigers, so she could not be there for the Braves. As simple as that.

There have to be rules, even in the bleachers.

We will all just have to yell a little louder tonight, think of a good spell for Jones.

Maybe do somersaults down the aisle.

Something.

Notes: Bleacher Creature

LOAD-DATE: October 21, 1996