SECTION: Sports; Pg. 42

LENGTH: 607 words

HEADLINE: BACK WHERE WE BELONG

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:


I HAD AN EXTRA ticket for the bleachers, but Mrs. Creature wouldn't come to the Yankees opener. Why am I married to this woman? Somebody please tell me.

"We're only a half-game behind in the wild-card race," I pleaded. "We're raising the flag. Jose Canseco is in right." "No," Mrs. Creature said. "I can't stand all that racist, sexist stuff they yell out there."

Okay, I'll grant her the sexist thing, maybe. But racist? Never. We are a great, multi-cultural horde in Section 39.

So instead of Mrs. Creature, my father, Bleacher Creature Sr., came with me on the most wonderful day of the Roman calendar. I told him to wear his worst pants.

Outside the back gate, on River Ave., there was some catching up to do among us world champion fans. Tom Brown from Manhattan described how he spotted our friend Joe this winter, scrubbing a subway wall under W. Fourth St. as part of his community service. Joe got caught stealing a seat from the Stadium after the Series.

John Zenes from Pennsylvania was luckier. He was cited for disorderly conduct in the midst of the Series celebration. Then he went to court and nobody bothered to prosecute. "They nearly started a riot with their stupid horses," Zenes said.

We talked about our fun at the victory parade. "It turns out you can knock people over with rolls of toilet paper," Brown said.

I took a little ribbing, understandably, for my women's college basketball coverage. Hey, you have to do something in the offseason. And we looked ahead, too.

We creatures decided to hate interleague play even more than we despise high school bands on the field. We already are planning our trip to Shea, when the Red Sox come to town. The two most hated teams in baseball, a duet of evil.

It will be time for mischief.

"When the Mets come to Yankee Stadium, they're going to have to fumigate the place," said Tina Lewis, from Queens. "If there are Met fans in the bleachers, I don't know how long I'll last before they have to throw me out."

Tina was involved in the first fight of the season, when she and Norma Quintana of the Bronx bumped into each other on line. "You have to understand, I have my seat, first row, Section 37, and I don't want anyone else to sit there," Quintana said.

The pushing proved contagious. We are not a patient lot. Finally, peace was arranged. At 10:45, the gate rolled up and we piled through the turnstiles.

Immediately, we discovered new, unwanted renovations. Our old, form-fitted benches were gone, replaced with flat benches that will allow the Yankees to squeeze more creatures together for big games. The fencing in the back was covered by a blue wall.

Change. We hate change.

"I miss seeing all the trapped, dead birds behind the fence," said George Chityat, from Fort Lee.

The sun came out, bright and warm. We yelled, "Twenty-one dollars!" at the box-seat suckers. We spilled beer on each other's laps. We jeered Cecil Fielder. When Canseco took his place in right, we chanted, "Steroids."

We flicked a few fingers at Canseco. He flicked a few back. He wiggled his rear at us. In the sixth, world war broke out with the box seaters. A third-grader in the bleachers, Max Rivlin-Nadler from Queens, craned his neck to watch the game. Tough luck, kid.

WE THREW HUNKS of pretzels. The box seaters, shortsighted and too comfortable, ran out of ammo. A security guard took one of them away.

It should have been a total victory. Then Mark McGwire ruined some of the fun.

Not all of it, though. Sitting in the bleachers is like riding a bike. You never forget how to do it.

Notes: BLEACHER CREATURE



GRAPHIC: LINDA CATAFFO DAILY NEWS JOSE THEY CAN SEE: Creatures in Yankee Stadium bleachers welcome Jose Canseco.

LOAD-DATE: April 15, 1997