SECTION: Sports; Pg. 67

LENGTH: 553 words

HEADLINE: SECT. 39 IS HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:


I WAS GETTING a bit concerned about my relationship with my fellow Bleacher Creatures in Section 39.

After all, they are out there every day, every night, come rain, sleet or Minnesota Twins. Their hearts and souls are on the line each time Hideki Irabu steps to the rubber with his flat fastball. Their battles with security, with the box-seat bozos, with invading Mets fans, with phony cowbells, with beachballs, with high school bands, are neverending. I, on the other hand, show up for Opening Day, the Red Sox, the Mets and the playoffs. I arrive in work clothes, a journalist nerd carrying a notepad. Last time I was out there, one of my peers even pointed out, "Bondy's the type of guy, if he didn't write about us, we'd probably be beating him up."

Well, I needn't have worried. Because with the big games on the line, my people came through. Paul Kaplan, the dog walker, called me up with tickets to the Indians series, courtesy of Tina Lewis, the best counter server at Champs deli. I didn't have to stand on line to get my allotment anymore. I didn't have to worry about getting stuck in the dreary left-field bleachers or I am having trouble even imagining this the box seats.

I had arrived. Eleven bucks a ticket, plus handling charges, and I am back where I belong. Back in the bleachers, miles away from my family, a strange clan that doesn't seem to understand this is October; that I am back in crisis mode.

Since Mrs. Creature is actually a Columbia professor who often quizzes her students on current events, I asked her yesterday whom the Yankees would be playing today. I asked her if, perhaps, there was an important baseball game coming up on the schedule.

"I don't know," she said. "Why should I know?"

No reason, I said. My wife had flunked again. You can see why I need to be in Section 39 whenever possible.

I have thought about this a lot, and I think we in the bleachers are ready for Cleveland. There was a period, after our great humiliation of the Mets, when the season flattened out a bit. We had a championship. We had the wild-card bid in the bag. Maybe our chants lacked their usual desperate edge. I know mine did at Wimbledon.

But now, with these Midwest bozos coming into our Stadium with their insulting, racist caps, I see us back on our game. We will give Manny Ramirez a real homecoming. He may have hit .651 his senior year at George Washington High, but this isn't Washington Heights anymore.

As always, we face great obstacles beyond the Orioles, Mariners and Braves. Like Rosh Hashanah, on Thursday. Here in New York City, a slice of the bleacher crowd is torn between Yanks-Cleveland and a celebration of the year 5758.

"I'm going to miss Thursday to be with my family," Kaplan said, a bit sheepishly. "I figure if Sandy Koufax can miss a World Series game, I can miss one first-round playoff game."

Maybe one. But no more. I don't want to hear about Yom Kippur. We can't have discipline breaking down out there.

FINALLY, A single reflection on the 96-win season: It was the two losses at the Stadium that sent the Mets into a brief tailspin from which they failed to fully recover. If they would just move to San Antonio now, they'd have a much better shot at winning the weak Central Division.

Notes: Bleacher Creature

LOAD-DATE: October 01, 1997