SECTION: Sports; Pg. 47

LENGTH: 555 words

HEADLINE: RIGHT BACK WHERE WE BELONG

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:


OPENING DAY can be quite a commitment for Bleacher Creatures. Some of us get to the Stadium three hours before the start, just to reserve a piece of blue bench in Section 39. Most stay for the whole, wacky four-hour game. It is, as Tom Brown of Manhattan likes to call the affair, "a dysfunctional family reunion."

All we ask in return for our investment of time is that traditions are respected and that there are no surprises. Why tinker with paradise? But suddenly yesterday, out of nowhere, 10 New York City cops march into the bleachers, several of them roaming Section 39. Thank you very much, Rudy Giuliani. We are told they will be there for every game, keeping the peace. Every move we make, they'll be watching us.

"If you jump from the middle of one bench to the middle of another, they arrest you for jaywalking," says Joey Lopez of the Bronx.

"But if you're nice to them, they let you use their handcuffs for a night of passion," Brown says.

Actually, the cops aren't bad guys. Sgt. Brian Ploss was born in the Bronx and says he's a big Yankee fan. He promises not to arrest fans for anything they say, just stuff they throw, from batteries to punches.

"We're not going to disturb anybody's freedom of speech," Ploss says.

There are other changes, many of them unwanted. A Kodak ad that looks like a school bus is painted on the left-field wall. Our section votes it down, 21-6. The price of a bleacher ticket is up again to $ 7, from $ 6.

Cecil Fielder is gone. That's good. Wade Boggs is missing, which is neither here nor there.

"That's like missing an episode of 'Three's Company,' " says Brown. "You'd kind of like to see it, but it's not that important."

There is one very good change. Luigi, the kid who used to sit with us, is now an official Yankee ballboy. Tina Lewis, extraordinary server from the Wall Street deli Champs, wrote a letter of recommendation for him. Luigi kept his grades up. Now there he is, waving to us from the field, making diving catches on foul grounders.

Lewis is happy for Luigi, but she is worried about Derek Jeter. He's too young to be dating Mariah Carey.

"It's dangerous," she says.

In front of us, the A's jump off to a 5-0 lead. "If there's any team we can score on, it's Oakland," says Chris Higgins of Middletown, N.Y.

Like all Bleacher Creatures, Higgins is never wrong. The Yanks win, 17-13, a Stadium record for runs. Tino Martinez keeps hitting the ball long, somewhere just below us.

There is plenty of time to show off the fresh Yankee tattoos, to discuss plans for the raid on Shea in June, to talk about our lots in life. A couple of guys have lost their jobs or are about to be laid off. Mutual funds and economic booms don't mean much in Section 39. Only baseball does.

When Chris Byrne left his home in Manhattan yesterday, it had been five months since he saw a live pitch. It had been forever.

"You've got to get a life," his mother told Byrne. His life is in the bleachers.

THE GUY SITTING on my right kicks over a beer onto my laptop bag. Then he buys me a pretzel. Milton Ousland is banging his new cowbell, which he keeps at night next to the 1996 World Championship bell so it can learn something.

The game ends, after 30 runs, 32 hits. A long hello to baseball.

Notes: BLEACHER CREATURE

LOAD-DATE: April 13, 1998