"Let’s go make fun of that Canadian team."
That’s how my buddy talked me into going to Yankee Stadium that day. Not that it would have taken much. It was July 18, 1999. We both had the day off from work.
The Montreal Expos were in town. They were less than a big draw. Vladimir Guerrero played for them, and that was about it. My friends liked to make fun of me for being Canadian. But we all loved baseball, and were all die-hard Yankee fans.
None of us knew that it was Joe Torre’s birthday. If we had, we would have, I don’t know, made a sign or something. Torre remains beloved to us, and to New York. And he was about to get an amazing birthday present from David Cone.
It was Yogi Berra Day at Yankee Stadium. Don Larsen, he of the 1956 World Series perfecto, was on hand as well. As the story goes, his magic transferred to Coney. The ghosts of the Stadium did their thing.
By the time the sixth inning rolled around, the murmurs of a Perfect Game had started in full force. Nobody believed what they were seeing. We were hoping for maybe a no-hitter, but even that seemed like a long shot. We would have been happy with just a win, really.
I have since seen interviews with people saying they knew from the start Coney was throwing a perfecto, but I call shenanigans on that. David Wells had just thrown a perfect game the previous year against the Minnesota Twins. Nobody thought Coney was going to do it. It seemed too unreal. Completely impossible.
The rest is history. July 18th IS history. It plays out in slow motion now. Ricky Ledee scaring everyone by almost bobbling the catch. The growing intensity in the Stadium. The absolute and complete pandemonium and jubilation of that win.
David Cone sank to his knees. Joe Girardi grabbed him. All the Yankees piled on. And we all screamed with joy. Strangers hugging each other. Tears flowing freely from big tough guys. Nobody making fun of anyone. Bliss. Pride. Love.
It was a hot day, 98 degrees and muggy. That kind of sticky heat that makes you feel like you’re covered in wet laundry in the desert. Those conditions can just mug you. Hence the term “muggy."
We had great seats. Down in the catered section behind First Base. Just walked up and got them from the ticket guy. Tino Martinez was RIGHT THERE. We could not have known how lucky we were, and we thought we were pretty lucky at the time.
It didn’t look like the game would even finish at one point. There was a rain delay for a half an hour at the bottom of the third, right in the middle of Tino’s at-bat. Thankfully it didn’t end the game. We still didn’t know what we were in for.
As the game went on, Cone’s fastball seemed to pick up speed. His slider darted in and out of the strike zone. The Expos looked confused. My buddy completely forgot about riding me for being Canadian. Something was happening. Even then, we didn’t know how big.
Joe Torre, Happy belated Birthday, and for your birthday, I give you a weak account of what David Cone already gave you in 1999. Thank you for everything you have done for the Yankees.
Happy July 18th weekend everyone!
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