7 Habits

The New York Yankees and Mike and Ike Candies:
Life's Little Lessons
30 June 2003

There are T-shirts out there that say "Baseball is life." Of course, there are also T-shirts that say basketball is, or football, or (for the really screwed up) golf.

I wouldn't go so far as to say baseball is life, but, dammit, I do think it serves as a very fine metaphor for life.

Take, for example, the latest ballgame I made it to: The Yankees of New York versus the Orioles of Baltimore in Oriole Park at Camden Yards.

My Yanks played some terrible baseball. They had four errors and even my boy Jeter biffed it up on a play. I think it must've been, at least in part, the fact that they were playing in front of me for the first time in about two years. Poor guys were feeling a lot of pressure to win one for The Mattman.

The lowly Orioles kept things interesting as they managed to steal a bunch of bases off the Yanks, including a stunning tandem effort. But, the early innings were comfortable, tied at one run apiece. I was able to enjoy the beautiful surroundings of Camden Yards and relax after another loopy day in the office.

In all honesty, Camden Yards is the coolest park I've ever been to (excepting Yankee Stadium, which is so jam-packed with history, it's in a league of its own). Designed by the folks who would go on to design Coors Field, Camden Yards has a lot of classic touches about it and basically creates its own little town within its friendly confines.

Anyway, getting back to the game, things got difficult in the middle innings. Much like life itself, things start out smoothly but there's always something to put tension in the air. Sometimes you're left out to dry all on your own (I'm particularly thinking of that Kim kid who blew it for the D'backs against the Yankees a couple years ago during that painful World Series).

In this case, though, I wasn't alone. Even while away in Baltimore, I dare say the Yankees fans far outnumbered Orioles fans. The most vocal Oriole fans hadn't even hit puberty yet, so they've got a lot to learn. God help them. I hope they can come to their senses and root, root, root for the Yaan-keees.

Plus, we had to contend with Andy Pettitte on the mound. He's like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get when he takes the field. In this case, he was doing fine until the wheels started to fall off in the fourth inning. Down 4-1, I was losing my happy little "Omigosh, I'm watching the Yankees in Camden Yards" buzz.

But, like life, hope sprang eternal in the fifth when the Yanks came back for a pair of runs. At 4-3, I was feeling better.

Somewhere along the way, the Orioles mascot came out to fling T-shirts into the crowd. The poor guy was working with an incompetent sling operator who beaned him in the back of the head but good with an errant wad of T-shirt. As in life, the bird was knocked down. But he got up again. And he kicked the sling dude in the buttocks.

Having flipped the bird many a time in my day, I could appreciate the symbolism going on down on the field.

With renewed hope, I watched my boys score no runs in the sixth. I persevered. Even with a grumbling tummy. Then came the seventh and my faith was rewarded with a powerful three-run blast by Ruben Sierra that sent the Yanks ahead 6-4. It was the first homer Orioles reliever B.J. Ryan allowed in 36 trips to mound this season.

PHEW. The breathing was easier. A euphoric buzz even set in. With a three-game winning streak going at Coors Field this season, it was starting to look like my dream of an undefeated season would stay alive! It was shaping up as a truly beautiful evening.

And the dream would survive and thrive. But not without some last-gasp cliffhanging action. Even with Mariano Rivera, who got an astonishingly warm welcome when he took the mound in the ninth, peril was just around the corner as the Orioles closed the gap to 6-5 in the bottom of the ninth.

But they were stopped there.

The Yanks won, 6-5. Or, phrasing it as another one of life's lessons, the good guys won in the end.

And, if I've said it once, I've said it a billion times, this good guy's gonna win. Oh yeah.

Another observation. Derek got booed quite a bit. I simply don't understand this, but that proves another of life's lessons: Sometimes even the good guys get jeered. A lot of it depends on the crowd you're dealing with.

Quoting USA Today, Ryan said after the game, "It was just a bad pitch at a bad time."

Pettitte offered this post-game synopsis, "I really struggled. It could have been a lot worse, but I made some big pitches when I had to. It felt like they had the bases loaded every inning after the first."

When you get right down to it, who hasn't made a bad pitch in their day? Name a guy who hasn't pitched a line to a girl that sank in the dirt. Name anybody who's never blown a job interview. And who hasn't felt like they've been up against it, as though the bases were loaded with no men out in the bottom of the ninth, no matter what their playing field in life might be?

While I'm waxing poetic about life's little lessons, I must give props to Mike and Ike. You know, the legendary candy. The boys have branched out. Now, in addition to offering their traditional mix, they've added my new personal favorite, "Berry Blast" featuring the tantalizing tastes of Strawberry, Wild Berry, Red Raspberry, Blueberry, and Mixed Berry.

But the boyz didn't stop there. Oh no. They've also added "Buttered Popcorn" Mike and Ikes. Yeah, it sounds pukey at first. But they were good. Although I must admit, one small box goes a long way.

There's also the delectable "Strawberries 'n Cream" (complete with the typo). Yummy.

"Tropical Typhoon" features Kiwi Lime, Orange Pineapple, Caribbean Punch, Pineapple Banana, and Strawberry Banana. A so-so concoction.

Finally, they've got Mike and Ike "Stripes," a patriotic blend of Cherry (Red), Vanilla Ice Cream (White), and Blueberry (Blue).

Maybe I haven't been traveling in the right confectionary circles, but the only places I've seen these new assortments at are in Baltimore gas stations.

So, what's my point?

Just this: Never forget the liberating power of reinvention and diversification. Listen to your inner Diva.

Madonna does it. Bono does it. Christina Aguilera does it. So do Mike and Ike.

So does The Mattman. Believe me. The past year has dragged me through a lot of mud. But even so, I'm dreaming it all up again even as you read this. This good guy's gonna win.

And on that note, here's a picture of a car I had the distinct pleasure of parking next to at the BWI Marriott. While it ain't as cool as The Mattmobile, I've gotta give the owner credit for dreaming out loud.

TC