The home run is still vivid in my mind, even though it was two innings ago. No one has scored since then, not the Yankees or the Indians. The home run by Greg Bird is the highlight of the game, and I can’t wait to see how it ends.
It is the top of the 9th inning. The Yankees are winning 1-0, and all we need are three outs to win the game. I can feel the warm breeze blowing through my hair as I watch Aroldis Chapman, the Yankees’ relief pitcher, walk onto the field from my second deck seat. The crowd is ecstatic as Chapman strikes out the first batter, and the classic whistle sound blows throughout the stadium. The crowd grows nervous as the second batter hits a deep ball into right field. Worry fills my body when I see the speed and trajectory of the ball off the bat, which turns into excitement when I see Aaron Judge rob a home run with his 6’ 7” stature.
The game is coming to a close as the third batter of the inning walks to the plate. The fear of defeat courses through my body when I notice the batter is the best on the team. As the first pitch zooms into the catcher’s mitt for a strike, I can hear the clapping throughout the whole stadium. The clapping intensifies as Chapman throws a 104 mph fastball right into the zone for strike two. As I stand up with the rest of the fans, I can feel the electricity of the stadium running through me. I watch Chapman step back and lift his right knee, not tilting in any way. I watch him push off the mound with his left leg, as he makes his way to the plate. I see the ball release from his hand with incredible speed. With every spin of the ball I get more and more nervous that the pitch won’t be a strike. Inch by inch it drifts toward the plate, until it hits the catcher's glove with a poof of dust. The batter is surprised as the umpire yells, “Strike three!” since the pitch barely hits the outside corner. I jump up with excitement for the win and start frantically high fiving my family and the strangers around me.
As we stand up to leave the park, the fans are fired up. On the way down the stairs from our seats, I hear chants roar from the crowd saying,“Let’s go Yankees, let’s go…”. As we arrive at the parking garage, where our car is located, the chants can still be heard. Pumped with adrenalin I say to my dad, “This is awesome! I can’t wait to do it again!”