SECTION: SPORTS; Pg. 61 BLEACHER CREATURE

LENGTH: 688 words

HEADLINE: FANS VICTIMS OF CHAIN REACTION

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:
When poor Norma Quintana reached her season-ticket seat in the right field bleachers last night, she discovered that the first two rows had been chained off, closed to protect the Twins from her allegedly evil intentions.

Norma, Evie, Viviana, Chico and Fernando - Bleacher Creatures with more than 100 years of Yankee rooting between them - had lost their benches, and a substantial part of their identities. They had been turned into Stadium nomads by overzealous security measures.

"This is the seat I paid for," Norma protested. "I want my seat." But it was no use. Norma was forced to walk Section 39 for hours, along with our other harmless elders, in search of temporary shelter.

"It's as if the Japanese were still scared of our World War II veterans," said Tom Brown, whose head was shaved recently, on a wilder, more memorable night, after he'd became too drunk to protest.

Nobody in the bleachers threw anything at the Twins last night. Nobody could have thrown anything, even if they wanted, which they didn't. We were patted down on our way through the turnstiles, like criminals. We were studied by cops, undercover cops, security guards, cameras.

There was no alcohol, no smoking, no cursing, no yelling at the box-seat fans, no standing on the benches, no salt on the pretzels (maybe our hearts would beat too fast and we'd get too excited). The first Creature was thrown out of the ballpark at 6:17 p.m., nearly an hour before the first pitch, for a simple profanity heard many times on "The Sopranos."

Basically, Section 39 was Giuliani-land, and we had Twins fans in Minnesota, at least in part, to thank for this.

"I haven't seen so many low-flying helicopters since they were over my uncle's house in Northern California with thermal sensors," said Mike Donahue.

The worst part about all this was that last night was the fifth anniversary of Ali Ramirez's death, and the Creatures had come to pay homage. Ramirez, patron saint of the bleachers, the original cowbell man, had died getting ready to come to the Stadium on May 8, 1996. If he could have been there last night, he would not have been pleased.

"He would be disgusted," said Tina Lewis, who has moved to Wayne, N.J., and has recovered fully from an early-season illness. "This is not anything like the way it used to be."

Still, we did our best. Monica polished the copper plaque on Ali's seat, the one the Yankees installed atop seat A-29. A bouquet of white carnations adorned the bench. Then, after the regular roll call, the Creatures called out Ali's name a few times, looking toward the sky.

"He's an angel up there," said Tina, who gives Ramirez a good deal of credit for the four championships in five years.

Ramirez was honored, and then we even had something of a love-in with Minnesota right fielder Matt Lawton.

"We won't kill you!" the Creatures chanted at Lawton, in the spirit of friendship and cooperation. Somehow, the security guards allowed this, without a single banishment.

The truth is, the Creatures have nothing against the Twins or their fans, who have never really been on our radar.

These are Minnesotans, for goodness sake. Lakes. Folk music. Butter. How dangerous can they be?

"It's like the farmers were finished tilling the field, and suddenly they were throwing their pitchforks," Brown said of the Chuck Knoblauch incident.

Anthony Griek remembered that when he went to a Twins game two years ago at the Metrodome, the fans there were not in the least bit intimidating.

"They're soft," Griek said. "There was a magician walking around the stadium, keeping them entertained because they couldn't keep their minds on baseball."

Donahue figured the Twins fans were probably incensed for reasons that had nothing to do with Knoblauch.

"The stadium probably raised the fee to park their trailers in the lot," Donahue said.

The Twins can win all they want in April and May. They are hardly worth noticing, let alone targeting with objects.

If only the Yankees and the mayor understood that, we might be able to eat our pretzels with salt again in the bleachers.

E-mail: fjbondy@netscape.net

LOAD-DATE: May 9, 2001