I remember it like it was yesterday… I stood in my room thinking, wondering if my dad would get them. I didn’t know. Hopefully his friend would come through. I would love him if he did. I paced in front of my autographed photos, thinking of the pros and cons of a night in the City of Brotherly Love. Game or school? Homework or hotdogs? Screaming fans or boring teachers? I got on my knees and started to pray that it would be my lucky night.

Two days earlier my dad said to me, “I might get tickets for game four from my friend, but I am not totally sure.” The anticipation was killing me. The call came. “We’re in!” my dad exclaimed. I was so excited that I was going to my second World Series game this year, game four on November 1st. My first was game one in the Bronx and now, “Philadelphia here I come.” Right after hearing the great news, my mom informed me that I would not be able to skip school on Monday. I guess there was no need for a pro and con list after all. “Who cares? I get to go to the World Series!”

Finally. Sunday. I couldn’t believe it. I threw on my A-Rod All-Star jersey and walked over to my dad. “I’m ready. When are we leaving?” He chuckled and responded to me, “We are leaving at half time of your sister’s soccer game.” I put a smirk on my face and shrugged as I walked away.

3-2-1… Immediately after the first half, I hopped into the car and yelled at my dad, “Go, Go, Go!” My dad and I were off, speeding to Philly. (And by speeding, I mean going the speed limit.) It had to have been the most suspenseful drive of my life. I asked myself questions like, “Who is going to win? Will there be a walk-off hit?” I was daydreaming and looking out the window, when we passed by Newark Airport. Out of the blue, I saw Air Force One and remembered that President Obama was in town campaigning for Governor Corzine. About an hour later, we were pulling into the parking lot, surrounded by a sea of red and white. Phillie fans were everywhere. I knew this was going to be the most amazing game that I had ever gone to.

It was my second time at Citizen’s Bank Park so I knew that it was a great stadium. But it was no Yankee Stadium. There was no giant TV screen in centerfield. No Bleacher Creatures yelling for the players. No Monument Park. But we got hotdogs and sodas and headed for our seats in the bottom of the upper deck between home plate and first base. The game started off slowly but by the eighth inning I knew this was going to be one of the best I’d ever seen.
The score was 4-3 Yankees when Joe Girardi decided to bring in Joba Chamberlain. I was worried because so far in the series he wasn’t pitching well. With two outs in the bottom of the eighth inning Joba had Pedro Feliz where he wanted him, two strikes and one ball. I held my breath as Joba threw a fastball right down the middle. Pedro swung for the fences and it worked. He hit a game tying homerun for the Phillies. The stadium exploded with cheers. The people that were sitting next to us were rubbing it in all of the Yankee fans’ faces. One fan got so mad that a fight almost broke out. It could have been nasty if someone wouldn’t have held him back. By the time everyone calmed down, the inning had ended and the Yankees were up with a runner on third base.
The one, the only, A-Rod was coming up to bat. As he stepped up to home plate, the stadium was roaring, “Cheater! Cheater!” and, “A-Roid!” The Yankee fans were staying loyal and screaming at the top of their lungs, “Let’s go Yankees!” I was praying that A-Rod was going to get a hit or a sac fly to give the Yankees the go-ahead run. I kept thinking about what might happen to me if he didn’t. Would I get booed? Would I get beat up by a Phillie fan? Was I a bad luck charm for the Yankees since they lost the last game that I went to? As A-Rod took a few breaths and stepped into the batter’s box, I took off my jacket. I proudly revealed my A-Rod jersey. Brad Lidge took a deep breath and put one foot at a time on the rubber. I couldn’t sit down because I was so anxious. As I turned to my dad and said, “I think he is going to do it,” A-Rod drove the ball down the left-field line. I jumped up and down screaming and cheering. Right when I screamed, the stadium went silent until someone sitting in our section yelled at me and my dad. “I can’t believe that you would let your son wear the jersey of a cheater!” Even though we were surrounded by Phillie fans, we heard people sticking up for us. “Why are you picking on a little kid?” I didn’t care. I was happy. The Yankees were winning!

Two batters later and the Phillies were out of the inning. My dad and I headed towards the exit to watch the final three outs. We knew the Yankees were going to pull it off and they did. If we were at Yankee Stadium we would have been high-fiving to the beat of “New York, New York,” but we were excited to be leaving Philly as winners. We tried to get out of the stadium and the parking lot as fast as we could to avoid traffic but it ended up taking 45 minutes. Two hours later we pulled into our hotel in New York City and early the next morning, I hopped on the train to Fairfield so that I could get to school. I couldn’t wait to tell everybody about the excitement at the stadium.

Three days later I watched game six on TV. My parents told me to go to bed, but how can you sleep with the anxiety of seeing if the Yankees could win it all? It was 12:15 A.M. and I was still awake. With 2 outs in the top of the 9th a ground ball is hit back to Mariano. He takes the ball and throws it to 1st. Jeter starts to jump up. They did it. They won!!!! Theeeeeeeeeeeeeee Yankees won their 27th world championship, their 27th ring as a franchise. I was ecstatic!