I Met Derek Jeter

In light of Derek Jeter's recent announcement of his intention to retire at the close of the 2014 season, we decided to bring you two special edition blog posts. Today's blog post, written by myself, and next week's, written by Lisa. I suggested that to Lisa that her blog post be entitled, "I Knew I Loved Derek Jeter When He Started Losing His Hair," but she didn't go for it. Sorry, guys. I tried. I felt that you would've really enjoyed that discussion.

I thought that I would share with you the story about the day I met Derek Jeter. Or otherwise known as "the heart-warming story about a girl in her pre-flatiron era fro on her quest to meet Bernie Williams."

You may have recalled that fun fact from this blog post last year. I think I was about 12 years old when Mamadukes won an auction that allowed me to be the honorary bat girl for a day for the Yankees. All I wanted was to get my picture taken with Bernie Williams. That is all. Before I continue with this story, I have to emphasize the fact that the Derek Jeter I met was not the Derek Jeter that sh*ts bricks of gold according the the media. He was just a newbie.

I didn't have my very own Yankees jersey until high school, so Mamadukes loaned me her Don Mattingly one. I spent batting practice sitting in the dugout with a Yankees' Suit and a photographer. I specifically stated that I wanted a picture with Bernie Williams. Multiple times. I was introduced to Joe Torre, Mariano Duncan, and Tino Martinez. I was appreciative of all of these moments, but continued asking for Bernie Williams (after the Yankee of the moment had already departed, of course).

Jeter had just taken the field to take a few warm up throws when the Suit asked, "Hey! Do you want to meet Derek Jeter?" I didn't even know who "Derek Jeter" was. Clearly, this man was either hard of hearing or a total d*ck.
"I guess." I looked to the outfield where I could see Bernie Williams shagging fly balls.
The Suit was seemed totally thrilled because he hopped off the bench, bounded up the steps, and trotted over to Jeter. "Derek? Do you mind taking a photo with one of our biggest fans?"
Jeter looked at me and smiled. "Sure."
The Suit eagerly waved me over as the photographer jumped to action. They positioned me next to Jeter and Jeter placed his hand on my back. I tried to smile. To the best of my ability. PS - I also had braces.

The photographer snapped several photos. "It looks like you'll need to get yourself a Jeter jersey now!" he declared cheerfully from behind his camera.
Jeter patted me lightly on the back. "No. She's got a good one on."
"Exactly," I blurted out. Which was super sweet of me.
He chuckled. The Suit and photographer chuckled as well, but I think theirs was more awkward and forced.

When we returned to the dugout, I checked the outfield again. Bernie Williams was gone! In the time we had wasted with the new Yankee, I'd missed the only man I wanted my picture taken with! I felt my stomach turn.

I turned to The Suit and said, "we missed Bernie."
He frowned. "So we did."
My heart sunk. I felt my shoulders sag.
"Why don't we see if we can grab him before he makes it to the clubhouse?" he suggested.
"Really?"
"Sure."
The photographer was now focused on photographing the action around the batting cages, so it was just me, clutching my little cheap camera, and The Suit hurrying through the halls to in an effort to reach the clubhouse in time.

At the double doors, The Suit turned to me and said, "wait here." He opened the door and disappeared. As the door slowly swung closed, I could hear him shout, "Bernie?"

It felt like I waited for hours. I thought that I'd been forgotten. Then the door swung open and The Suit emerged with Bernie. My face hurt from the smile that erupted on it.
"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking my hand. To me. He spoke to me.
I grinned. All I could do was grin.
"I know you don't have a lot of time here, but do you mind taking a photo with her, Bernie?" The Suit asked. "That's all she's been asking for."
"Of course, of course!" he said. He spotted my camera and took it. He put his arm around my shoulders and flipped the camera around to face us. He pressed the button to take a selfie of us before "selfies" even existed. I think my smile was so big that my eyes had squinted shut, but it didn't matter because the camera never went off. He frowned and examined the camera before trying again. Nothing. He fiddled with it some more. Nothing.
He frowned and handed the camera back to me with an apologetic frown. "I'm very sorry. It's not working."
What I would've given for a smart phone back then.

I've been asked by people who I told this story to, "why couldn't you just be a little nicer to Jeter?" I'm pretty simple and I'm pretty relaxed about most things, but I also want what I want and that's that. Once I decide that I want something, nothing is going to deter me from that task. I didn't want Jeter. I wanted Bernie.

Since that season, not a year has gone by when Mamadukes has suggested, "I don't know why you can't just marry Derek Jeter? What's your problem?" Because Derek Jeter has asked me on a date and I blew him off. Or something. Now he's retiring. I've single-handedly blew Mamadukes' chance at field level season tickets. I'm a life ruiner.

But Jeter would always be Mamadukes' favorite potential future son-in-law and to prove her love,
for my 16th birthday, she blew up what must be one of the Top 5 Most Heinous Photographs of me in existence, had Derek Jeter autograph it, and then framed it. Exhibit said photo below:

I mean...she didn't have to blow it up. Really. It was unnecessary. I think it's safe to say that when he saw this photo in its massive size, he didn't feel like he made a poor decision allowing me to walk away without getting my digits.

-Serena

The 2 TBB Wolfpack

Keeping with our policy of reporting to you the most excellent stadium tour summaries that we possibly can, we wanted to know how we could better these reports for our upcoming tours. Unfortunately, it appears that only 4 people want us to improve ourselves. Thanks a lot, people. You’re absolutely no help whatsoever. Just go ahead and let us rot with failure. Of the 4 of you who actually give a crap, the feedback was split between “Eat more food and report back because it’s clear that your stomachs are bottomless pits and it shouldn’t be a problem” and “More fan interaction because it’s great when you guys make complete a-holes out of yourselves.” This is somewhat encouraging because the other two options were a little mean: “More pictures of the stadium because I’m so tired of seeing your stupid faces” and “Just stop. Please stop. I cannot stand you two and I don’t even know why I check this site anymore.”

Before we get into today’s post, we’d like you to show some support our dear friend, Linda by voting for her in MLB’s Honorary Bat Girl contest. To read her story and vote, search “zizabella4915.” Linda is a warm, loving individual with a lot of spirit and fight. This is why she is our TBB Super Hero of the Week.

We’re blogging today from a waiting room at a Patient Service Center. Thankfully, neither of us are dead or dying (that we know of at least), but we are a bit frustrated. That is all we’re permitted to tell you about that at this time. Suffice it to say that we have a most excellent surprise for you, but we can’t tell you what it is yet. Very exciting. Don’t you just hate it when people do that? But now that we’ve got you hooked, we know that you’ll tune in next week to find out what the surprise is. We’re pretty smart like that.

Anyway, onward to the good sh*t. We bought our Brewers tickets this week for the bargain price of $114 (total with tax and service fees). This may sound a bit steep considering where we normally sit, but wait til’ you see the seats we actually scored. They’re located in an infield box on the third base side. We’d like to remind you that we’ll be seeing the Brewers play the Giants…and where does the away sit during the game? Oh, yes. The third base side. Don’t you worry your orange and black hats, boys, the TBB are gonna get you and bring you back to their cozy TBB beds. *Insert diabolical laugh*

We’ll be purchasing our airfare this weekend. Twins tickets go on sale on Saturday, March 26th, so we’re 95% of the way there. Of course, we still have to buy our airfare to Denver, but we’ve got plenty of time for that.

We’ve decided to open up a TBB Sweepstakes to keep our fans stimulated. What is the prize? Just going to Mets Opening Day with Lisa. For a chance to win, email us by April 1st with your name, email address, a contact number, and a paragraph about why you deserve to go with her. The winner’s entry will be posted to that week’s blog.

For some reason, the baseball notes we found this week were incredibly amusing to us. For starters, Carlos Beltran apparently approached manager Terry Collins about moving from center to right field because, “this is not about Carlos. This is about team.” Are you friggin’ sh*tting us? Since WHEN is this not about Carlos? Angel Pagan, who covered center in Beltran’s absence last year, will likely take over. If this is a completely selfless act on Beltran’s part, then Lisa is the Prime Minister of Greece and Serena will be replacing Elizabeth II on the throne any day now.

Just before the Yankees took on the Astros, Mark Teixeira announced that he’s parted ways with his long-time agent…none other than the devil himself, Scott Boras. According to Teixeira, “sometimes it’s time to make a little change.” Oh, it’s like justice has been delivered…sort of. It’d be poetry if every client he’s ever had up and left him in the gutter to be “murdered by crystal meth tweakers.”

So long for today, suckers. “What do the TBB dream of when they take a little TBB snooze? Do they dream of mauling Beltran or looking hot in a Catwoman suit? Don’t you worry your little worried heads, we’re gonna get you back to the stadiums and the yummy baseball foods. And then you’re not gonna find your ex-BFFER, Brad and you’re certainly not gonna give him a best friend hug. Brad. Oh, Brad. Oh, Brad (this is not us moaning, by the way). But if he’s been murdered by crystal meth tweakers, well then the A’s are sh*t out of luck.”

PS- In case you couldn’t tell, we watched The Hangover this weekend…a few times.