SECTION: Special; Pg. 16

LENGTH: 567 words

HEADLINE: PLAYOFFS OFFER CREATURE COMFORTS

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:


Once again, we move swiftly from the super pretzel twists of the regular season into the beery stickiness of the playoffs.

And, as usual, the Creatures in Section 39 at Yankee Stadium are on edge for the postseason, which is never a good thing for the opposition.

It was bad enough enduring all those upbeat Mets fans all year, with their ridiculous, ignorant "Think there'll be a Subway Series?" Duh. No. Why are they even talking to us? Then Yankee management pulled the rug out from under our personal playoff ticket plan - despite model behavior by us all season long - and we were forced to scramble again for our very existence. What do these people want from us? Blood tests? We stopped disrupting the national anthem, most of the time. We modified many of our allegedly offensive phrases. Just like the art at the Brooklyn Museum, we are censored by the strong-arm tactics of the puritanical Mayor.

Where is the ACLU when you need it?

Fortunately, once more, sheer persistence and bleacher smarts have paid off. We are relentless, like the encephalitis mosquitoes (we also disappear only briefly, over the winter). I can't go into details here about how our seats were acquired, except to say that cell phones, aggressive line management around the Stadium and a secret Ticketmaster loophole all played key roles.

Now, for all our trouble, we get to watch Texas. "A non-entity," says Tom Brown, a regular from Manhattan. "Who cares? Talking about the Rangers is like talking about sand. I am actually getting very bored with them. Their pitchers aren't even household names in their own households."

We will have to think of new ways to amuse ourselves, waiting for the Indians or Red Sox. Anthony Griek has some ideas on Juan Gonzalez. We will scream our roll calls, bang our cowbell. We'll try out new chants, new taunts, at the box-seat bozos. We will try to avoid the 70th Precinct.

We have found a bar in New Rochelle that has given us a deal on beer during away games. The proprietors have no idea what they are getting themselves into. We figure the big championship blowout this year will be at the home of Cartelli's parents. This is probably news to Cartelli and to his parents, but that's tough, because he's a rookie in the bleachers and everybody has to pay his dues.

Hopefully, his homeowners' insurance is paid, too.

As for myself, the Filip Creature, I will try to ingratiate myself once again into the fold, despite some recent columns on the Mets that were admittedly far too cozy. When I was forced by my sadistic sports editor to go on a West Coast road trip with the Mets, I received an e-mail from fellow Creature Mike Donahue suggesting, "In some cultures, suicide is preferable to disgrace."

He was right, of course, but we all have to eat. You think I like going to Wimbledon, Paris, Nagano, Sydney? If I could live my life under the Utz girl painted on the rightfield wall, you know I'd be there for you guys, 24-7.

Anyway, it all starts tonight and we're prepared to dig in for all the hassles and rewards of a long postseason. Hopefully, the Rangers disappear in three. Then, maybe, we get to Jaret Wright again, destroying his meager willpower. Or, maybe, the Red Sox will enter the lair to take their once-every-two-decades punishment.

The Creatures want you to know: We aren't happy. We're just ready.

Notes: Bleacher Creature

LOAD-DATE: October 05, 1999