Chapter 2: Game Day
Forty-eight hours later, they were in Yankee Stadium. Both wore the blue uniforms of street cops; the more visible the police were on this occasion, the better. Anyone who might look for trouble needed to know that the opposition was too formidable to challenge.
They were sitting on the bench at the far end of the Yankee dugout. Near the on-deck circle, a TV crew was live for the lengthy pregame show. Across the field, fans were lined up to visit Monument Park, where Yankee legends were honored.
"I must be losing weight," Bobby mused, running a hand over his stomach, which had indeed shrunk a bit over the past several months. "I wasn't sure my uniform would fit when I tried it on yesterday. Glad I didn't have to go buy a new one."
"You look terrific, Goren," Alex said with a grin and a wink. "The female fans are going to be checking you out instead of the players."
"Likewise, Eames," he said, returning the smile. "You better hope the team isn't too distracted to play well."
She laughed at that. "I bet we'll all do our jobs tonight. This is way too special to screw up."
Shortly after 4, the fans were shooed from the field, and the players began trickling out for batting practice. They hopped up the steps, metal spikes clattering on the concrete, and trotted onto the field.
Alex leaned over to Bobby and said quietly, "They're not as big as I thought they would be."
Bobby chuckled. "Larger than life, you mean?"
"Yeah, maybe," she agreed. "But most of them are smaller than my partner."
"They're in way better shape, though," Bobby said, just a tad wistfully.
Alex smiled, reached over and rubbed her hand along his forearm. "I don't think you've got anything to worry about."
He sat a little taller, straightened his shoulders and grinned at her, and she felt warm inside. He's just as special as they are, she thought.
They watched for a while, just sitting there together on the bench, looking out at the expanse of grass, feeling a cool late summer breeze and sensing the ghosts of baseball greats around them. Alex told Bobby some of her dad's stories of seeing the stars of the 1950s and '60s. "He'd love to be here tonight, but he knows he can see it better on TV. His eyes aren't as good as they used to be."
Then she shared with Bobby her memories of her early visits to the stadium, starting when she was 4. Her sisters weren't interested in sports, but whenever her dad and brothers headed to the stadium, Alex determinedly tagged along.
Too soon it was 5:15, time to check in at the command post and take a little dinner break. They rose, reluctantly breaking the spell, and headed for the tunnel that led deep into the stadium. At the command post, a burly, red-faced Sergeant Grimes was giving instructions rapid-fire to groups of two and three officers. He paused when Goren and Eames arrived and pulled them aside.
"OK, you two ready for tonight?" he asked, looking more at Alex than Bobby.
"We're ready, Sarge," Bobby answered for them. "Eames and I have gone over all the procedures, and I've given her all the tips I can think of."
"Just remember, Detective, keep switching your focus back and forth throughout the game," he told Alex. "Keep an eye on the action. The ball moves faster than you expect, so if you get hit, it can do some serious damage. But between pitches, keep scanning the stands. Look for anyone getting drunk, mouthy, surly. The later we go, the more beer they'll have in them. And when the game's over, that's when it can get really crazy. At that point, we'll have reinforcements ringing the field, but you'll be in the best position to finger the troublemakers."
Alex showed no resentment at Grimes for going over the basics that she and Bobby had already discussed, as if she were a raw rookie. On this particular assignment, she was a rookie. But she was determined to get it right.
"Bobby said he mentally divides the nearby sections into blocks and memorizes the faces," Alex said, "so by the end of the game, any interlopers will stand out. And by personalizing it like that, he can keep track of who's not holding his beer well."
"Yeah, that's good. He could always read the faces and nail the behavior in his heyday at Shea. If you can do half as well, we'll be fine tonight."
"I'll do my best," she said solemnly, though she managed to sneak a smirk at Bobby as Grimes was momentarily distracted.
The sergeant turned back to them. "OK, take a break. Get something to eat. Showtime is at 6 sharp. Be in place."
"We'll be there," Bobby assured him as Alex nodded, and the two partners left to wander the concourse.
"Those hot dogs smell delicious," Bobby said as he caught the scent from a concession stand.
"Eat too many of those, Goren, and you won't fit into that uniform," Alex teased, catching his ribs lightly with her elbow.
"Ouch!" he responded with a mock frown. "You bruised my ego."
She laughed, and Bobby felt warm all over. It was great to see her so happy. She was fully enjoying this treat, walking on air, and he felt right up there with her, 10 feet tall, because he'd been able to make it happen.
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The next few hours were full of wonder, excitement and hard work. Bobby's spot was next to the camera well at the home plate end of the dugout, and Alex was next to the cameras at the other end. They had perfect vantage points for all the pregame ceremonies, as living Yankee greats and relatives of those who had died popped out of the dugout to be honored. The starting lineup was announced, and the band played the national anthem.
All the while, there were people to watch, faces to memorize, beers to count, cheers and jeers to tune in to. Alex found a rhythm, taking in the activities on the field, then shifting toward the stands. Field, stands. Field, stands. Occasionally she caught Bobby's eye. At one point, she gave him a thumbs-up, and he nodded and grinned.
The game began, and the Orioles jumped in front early. A homer put the Yanks on top, but Baltimore tied it up. Another homer gave New York the lead again.
Alex and Bobby each picked a few potential troublemakers to keep an eye on in the early innings and made adjustments to their watch lists as the game went on. About midway through the game, Bobby began keeping a closer eye on two guys in the eighth row of the section above him, just to the home plate side of the dugout. They had been drinking steadily, and the big guy – about 6-3 and a good 270 pounds – had made three trips to the concession stands because the beer vendors weren't coming by often enough to suit him. Big Guy was plenty loud, taunting the opposing players throughout, occasionally with language that wasn't good for kids in the surrounding sections to hear. A police officer in the stands had spoken to him at one point, trying to get him to tone it down.
Bobby wasn't sure exactly when he started to wonder about Big Guy's buddy. This one was much smaller and quieter, but there was something about his face, the look in his eyes. … He was wearing an Oriole sweatshirt, and Big Guy had been teasing him good-naturedly in the early innings. As more beer flowed, the teasing turned to taunting and arguing. As the end of the game neared, Big Guy got louder and more boastful, and Buddy grew more sullen.
Leading 7-3, the Yankees brought their closer in from the bullpen for the ninth inning. He quickly disposed of the Baltimore hitters, and waves of cheers washed over the stadium. The players poured out of the dugout and onto the field to celebrate, and Alex and Bobby stepped out on the grass to keep an eye on the fans as they surged toward the railings. A player was handed a microphone and addressed the crowd, paying tribute to the memories and to the fans' dedication to their team.
For the most part, the people in the stands had been well-behaved. The lack of incidents throughout the night was remarkable, especially considering how excited everyone was and how long some of the fans had been there … and thus, how much time there had been for alcohol consumption.
Now, with the players leaving the field, the fans were standing and cheering, and many were crowding to the front rows for a closer look. Bobby spotted Big Guy and Buddy shoving their way toward the railing, pushing other people aside. His body tensed, and he grabbed the radio from his belt to warn of a possible problem developing. He barely had time to finish the call when Big Guy vaulted over the railing, stumbled and then gathered himself. He rushed around the outside of the camera well, hoping to slip into the dugout and reach the departing players. But Bobby was there to meet him, restraining him with a bear hug. Big Guy was a handful – two hands full, actually – and Bobby hoped reinforcements would arrive quickly.
Then Bobby saw Buddy, crouching at the outside edge of the camera well, looking to sneak between its rails and the wrestling match that had Bobby fully engaged. As Buddy made his move, Bobby lurched to his left, dragging Big Guy with him and momentarily pinning Buddy against the rails.
Somebody get here, Bobby thought desperately, as the effort to hold Big Guy left him unable to keep Buddy from wriggling free.
Then he saw it: A flash of light on metal. A blade, swinging around in Buddy's right hand. Bobby felt a stinging pain in his left side as the knife scraped along the bottom of his rib cage. He gritted his teeth and tried to shift Big Guy to free his left arm so he could stop Buddy, but Big Guy wasn't cooperating. Bobby saw Buddy's right hand rise, knife held firmly, this time ready to plunge directly toward Bobby's exposed left side. For a split second, as he saw the knife arc harshly downward, Bobby wondered if this was it.
And then a small but strong hand flew up and grabbed Buddy's wrist, jerking it back and smashing it repeatedly against the railing until the knife fell to the ground. Buddy was yanked forward, his arm twisted around his back in a hammerlock, and Bobby caught a glimpse of his partner's angry face. She pushed Buddy to the ground, cuffing him quickly as three more officers arrived. They helped Bobby take Big Guy to the ground and cuff him. The knife was secured as well.
Several more officers grabbed the two men, yanked them to their feet and hustled them to the far end of the dugout, away from the players and the other fans. It all happened so fast that few people even realized what was going on. Just a momentary disturbance that barely affected the huge celebration swirling around them.
Bobby and Alex stood there staring at each other for a moment. Bobby's brain was still processing what he had seen and felt and been rescued from. Suddenly Grimes appeared. "That was smooth," he said, his eyes full of respect as he looked at Alex. "Great work, Detectives."
Alex reached out and fingered the torn fabric of Bobby's dark blue shirt. Drawing back her hand, she saw red. "You're bleeding," she said simply.
Just then one of the Yankee players, who had been watching from the dugout, stepped up and put a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "You guys come with me. We can get you some help in the training room."
Grimes nodded. "It's quicker than trying to fight through the crowd and get to a first aid station."
With the player guiding them and his teammates stepping aside to clear a path, they left the field via the tunnel and headed to the Yankee clubhouse.
