SECTION: SPORTS; Pg. 6C

LENGTH: 582 words

HEADLINE: Creatures add life to bleachers

BYLINE: Malcolm Moran

DATELINE: NEW YORK

BODY:
NEW YORK -- Uptown Mike's friends spotted him walking through the back door of the bodega with an oversized shopping bag and an equally large smile beneath his Yankee cap.


He had been inspired by the unique circumstances presented by Game 4 of the World Series. The bodega was a short walk from Yankee Stadium but light years from the overpriced beverages consumed by the big money crowd. The awning of the place said 846 Deli & Grocery. In the back, beyond the shelves of cat food and air freshener, these bleacher regulars gathered yet one more time.
Normally they would consume their pregame beverages in open air, in Macombs Dam Park in a sandbox they call Sandbox Suites. But the massive security presence had chased them inside, where on Wednesday the menu had an unusual twist. "I started thinking this is the one time there's been a World Series game on Halloween," said Uptown Mike, aka Mike Perez, 30, of Staten Island. "So I brought some candy for the creatures."


The Yankees prohibited costumes in Yankee Stadium, but they could not ban candy, and they definitely could not stop the creatures. The Bleacher Creatures had evolved into a relentless, raucous, creative, occasionally across-the-line (well, OK, often across the line) ever-present group.


They separate themselves from the trendy arrivals from the 1998 season, the fans that arrived during the 125-victory season and never left. "Ninety-eighters," sniffed Milton Ousland, of East New York in Brooklyn. "They're not Yankee fans. They're 98ers."


They created, by accident, the only known interactive chant in sports, the roll call acknowledged by each Yankee starter in the top of the first inning. The tradition began when the seats were far easier to obtain, when a small collection of regulars would turn toward Dave Winfield and chant, "Dave . . . Dave . . . Dave." Then that eventually grew to "Bernie . . . Bernie," their salute to Bernie Williams.


Fast forward to the middle of a boring game several years ago. "We said, 'Let's try to get Tino Martinez,' " said Anthony Griek, a 23-year-old radio disc jockey from Fairfield, Conn. "He turns around and does this . . . "


Griek raised his right hand and shot an imaginary wave.


"We were like, 'He what?' " Griek said.


The tradition grew to include radio broadcasters Michael Kay and John Sterling and helped validate the Creatures.


They have traveled to -- better make that invaded -- opposing parks. They have been, on occasion, invited to leave Yankee Stadium long before the end of a game. They have been blamed for the end of beer sales in the bleachers, a charge they deny. They have been accused of heckling rattled musicians in high school bands, a charge they accept proudly.


They reject bandwagon joiners and insist upon detailed rules of etiquette. No beach balls. No face painting. And absolutely, positively no waves.


They did show the proper respect when President Bush emerged from the Yankee dugout to throw out the first pitch before Game 3. "He actually threw a strike under that pressure," Ousland said. "Maybe the Mets could use him."


They could laugh because the Mets, last year's threat, were nowhere near Halloween. The President of the United States had come and gone too quickly to make the roll call. And the creatures were moving on to more pressing concerns: the extension of one more season and the hope for their very own float in the victory parade.


GRAPHIC: PHOTO, B/W, Todd Plitt, USA TODAY; Proud of it: Bleacher Creatures have their own stadium etiquette and hats like Mike March's.

LOAD-DATE: November 01, 2001