Play Ball: How Our Local Teams Stack Up

I don't normally have a drink at a baseball game because I don't care for beer and anything besides beer seems wrong. But a few years ago my daughter Clementine and I went to a Yankee game at the old Stadium courtesy of tickets our friend Joel had gotten from a client. The seats were in a fancy section along the third-base line, so close to Alex Rodriguez we could practically touch him. In-seat wait service was available, so were cosmos, so I ordered one. It arrived in a shrink-wrapped plastic martini glass. Deep red, it looked like Jello. After peeling off the plastic and taking a sip, I found it tasted like Jello as well. I have since seen those cosmos-to-go at our local liquor store. I guess they serve a purpose, but I'm not sure what it is.

Last June at the Mets' new stadium, Citifield, I was sitting in even fancier seats for a Mets-Yankee interleague game. Once again the seats were courtesy of Joel, who attended the game along with a client from Spain and the client's wife. The wife spoke no English, but I was amazed at what I was able to convey with my grade-school Spanish: "Numero trece, A-Rod, esta el novio de Kate Hudson, la hija de Goldie Hawn. Madonna esta su novia tambien."

Our seats were in a section that had its own private wood-paneled bar and restaurant, so we went in for a pre-game cocktail. Since it was a real bar with top-shelf brands, I thought I'd be getting a real glass, but the drink was served in a plastic beer cup. Swing and a miss.

The only other time I had alcohol at a baseball game was when Joel gave us tickets to watch a game from the Mickey Mantle suite in the old Yankee Stadium. Clementine and I went, along with our friends Cathy and Mary. The suite was a room overlooking the field, with comfy reclining chairs, two big-screen TVs (even though the game was being played right beyond the big windows in front of us), a hot and cold buffet and a full bar, complete with bartender. I had a gin and tonic or two. (Or three; there was a 90-minute rain delay, so we were in that box for about five hours.) It was an odd experience, very much like being at a baseball game, but not quite. Last year, Joel gave us tickets that included access to the Jim Beam suite at the new Yankee Stadium. Clementine and I got food there, but didn't bother with drinks since the glasses were plastic. Wait, I take that back; she had a beer, because that's what you do at a baseball game.

I think it's clear what the lessons are here: Everyone should have a friend like Joel. And no one should order a cosmpolitan if Alex Rodriguez is in the vicinity.