SECTION: Sports; Pg. 81

LENGTH: 619 words

HEADLINE: STADIUM IS SAFE AGAIN
MET ENEMY & CONQUERED

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:


I WOULD LIKE to report that our rousing victory yesterday turned the bleachers into one big lovefest, uniting the city while bringing us Yankee fans much closer to our Met brethren.

But if I did, I would be sued for libel by my fellow creatures.

We are all very glad to be rid of the Mets, and their surprisingly obese, poorly attired fans in Section 39. The invaders have been repelled. They have nothing to be ashamed of, other than their own reflections in the mirror. The Mets played .333 ball against the very best bleachers in the world, after being coddled all week by Fred Wilpon's favorite umpiring crew. The bleachers were different again for this rubber game yesterday, as you would expect. We are an ever-changing Impressionist painting. Bathed in mildew, muddled by the sounds of hangovers throbbing inside our own skulls, the place was far more mellow than during the two night games.

There was unwanted daylight, for one thing. There were also many kids in the crowd. Too many. One little girl started playing the hand game "Miss Mary Mack" right there in the midst of our man-made chaos.

"This isn't summer camp," Chris Byrne screamed at her. "This is Yankee Stadium."

The girl just kept playing.

All this made Tom Brown of Manhattan remember fondly the time there were two Little League teams in the bleachers, and how the regulars nearly incited a riot between the kids.

"Almost had them going," Brown said.

Just needed an extra-inning game, a few extra minutes, like yesterday.

All the omens were good in Game 3, from the start. When I sat on Joe Taylor's full beer cup in the top of the first, I was already in top ritual form.

Not that Taylor was very happy about this incident.

"Alcohol abuser," he called me, and his friends convicted me and my pants, immediately, as "beer killers."

I had committed the ultimate bleacher sin. I had stood up to watch a play, then failed to make certain before sitting down that the guy behind me wasn't using my bench as a bar top.

Wet or dry, our world stood still again yesterday for this series. Wives and husbands were left behind. Appointments were broken. Jobs were abandoned in midstream, perhaps lost forever.

Paul Kaplan of Manhattan didn't walk the dogs he is paid to walk. "Right now, there are 10 dogs sitting in different houses with their legs crossed," Kaplan said.

Donald Simpson, who is in charge of blocking static for NYNEX customers, came early to Section 39 and let the scratchy white noise take over telephone conversations throughout the region. You may have noticed.

Taylor, a fireman from Bridgeport, Conn., said he was absolutely certain there were no houses on fire back home. But who could be sure, really?

Joey Lopez works in an outreach program for homeless youths, who were probably roaming the Bronx yesterday in search of shelter. His boss wasn't helping, either. He was sitting in the loge.

Angel Nass usually hooks up defendants at the Bergen County courthouse in Hackensack with Legal Aid attorneys. Yesterday, the defendants could defend themselves, for all she cared.

"If they're Met fans, I reject them anyway," Nass said.

And so, quite possibly unemployed, we wave goodbye to the Mets. They go away now, leaving us to our old, more worthy enemies the Red Sox, the Orioles, the Mariners, the Braves.

WE WIN TWO OF THREE. Our overall record is better. We are defending world champions. They are not. We are in first place in our wild-card race. They are fading fast in theirs.

That leaves the Met fans with . . . absolutely nothing.

After a bad start on Monday, this interleague play was the perfect ticket.

Notes: Bleacher Creature



GRAPHIC: KEITH TORRIE DAILY NEWS BACK TO SHEA: Carl Everett, unfamiliar with Yankee Stadium, makes leaping catch.

LOAD-DATE: June 23, 1997