We got tickets right up front, surrounded by season ticket holders. There was a man in full Cyclones gear with a long beard that rode the subway with us, the woman and her grown son who sat in front of us and wrapped up her hot dogs to save for later, and the man who constantly yelled "Let's go Cyclops!" off key and never at the right time. He shelled peanuts off the ground, and you had to be sure not to accidently look over when he was bending over because the elastic in his sweatpants had seen better days. His friend next to him slept the entire game with his chin on his belly, and only woke up once or twice to join in on the chant. "Let's go Cyclops!"- It really never got old, Sam and I were cracking up.
People were yelling at the players, "Come on, Ponce! Hit it, Ponce!" And, "Peanuts! Cracker Jacks!" All in the very best, most-authentic Brooklyn accents you'll ever hear. And, at the end of the game, they were throwing food and yelling at the emcee (who was wearing a large crown and a fat suit) to get the fireworks going. But, the fireworks show was put on hold until after the emcee raffled off every single players' jersey- right off their back. The cheerleaders (yes, cheerleaders) were holding the sweaty jerseys with the tips of their fingers, and nobody was claiming the raffle tickets. It was just too good. And, the fireworks were actually pretty darn impressive.
I love Brooklyn.
GO-ooooo-OH Cyclops!!!
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