SECTION: SPORTS; Pg. 80 BLEACHER CREATURE

LENGTH: 564 words

HEADLINE: SOBER & BACK ON OUR GAME

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:
We were ready last night in Section 39, finally, not a game too soon. When Milton Ousland banged his cowbell this time, the Creatures sang at the box seaters in full-throated harmony. When the seventh inning arrived, Paul Kaplan flopped around, performing his dangerous roll between the benches, putting his body on the line. "Tonight, we're back," Anthony Griek declared and, not coincidentally, so were the Yanks. "Those two losses were a wake-up call. We were all too complacent, until they were on the brink."

Everybody must surely know by now the Yankees win or lose their games largely based on how well we cheer from the right-field bleachers. If the Creatures scream loud enough, if we come up with the perfect chant, we can pretty much decide whether a batter is going to strike out or lash a double.

Which is why the Yankees were down two games in this series, and why they finished off their comeback last night, 5-3. We hadn't been doing a good job. Any Creature worth his SuperPretzel knew that. Last night, we remembered our naughtiest roots, the days when Bad Mouth Larry and Sheriff Tom were sending shivers down the backs of opposing right fielders.

Before Game 5, there had been unsettling signs of creeping decadence. Little Mike was sipping Beck's out of paper bags, instead of Buds. Tom was distracted by clown porn (don't ask). Griek complained about Mike Donahue, claiming Donahue was too busy composing Jason Giambi jokes to actually care whether Giambi hit one out. The Creatures had fallen out of shape, physically as well as mentally.

"As soon as this season ends, we're all going on weight programs," Milton said, looking around at the growing paunches. Those extra pounds had become symbols of something gone very wrong, of a softness that had infected the Creatures when good times and championships were just too easy.

Take Kaplan. He showed up for all of three games during this regular season. He was thrown out of one for his body roll, ejected from another for his alleged drunkenness.

"I just decided to stop coming," Kaplan said. "Why bother?"

Until Game 5.

We had been a bit concerned about bad omens, after Game 4 on Sunday. The Creatures were at Jeremy's Ale House, ready to go, when the TV went out. In theory, it would have been best to sidle across the street to the nearest restaurant. Except that all Creatures, big and small, were banished from there ever since Tony Capone stumbled 20 yards and landed under one of the dining tables.

Last night was different, though. We were sober when we needed to be sober. We looked within ourselves, admitted that maybe we hadn't been the fans that we once were or those we could be again.

It helped to remember the good old days, when we were desperate and hungry and always there for batting practice. Back in 1996, before season tickets and no-alcohol signs, Tom and Tony Capone would jump up and down on the sidewalk grating on River Ave., just hoping the bars would collapse so they could file a lawsuit and make some money.

The grating never gave way. Five years and four championships later, they now weighed more than enough to break through, whenever they wanted.

There was no reason to jump last night. Jeter was jumping for everybody in the eighth inning, into the stands.

We told him to do that. That's how good we were last night.

<IP0>E-mail: fjbondy@netscape.net



LOAD-DATE: October 16, 2001