Security, Emotions High at A's Game
By Corey Lyons
Contra Costa Newspapers
Oct. 14, 2001
OAKLAND -- Baseball fans poured into Network Associates Coliseum on Saturday under heightened security, with double the amount of uniformed officers on patrol.
Few seemed to notice.
Instead, they cursed the New York Yankees and gulped beer.
Playoff fever has once again gripped the Bay Area, giving nervous residents here a diversion from the grim possibilities of further terrorist strikes against the United States.
The Oakland A's played host to Game 3 of the American League Division Series against New York, the three-time defending world champions.
Suddenly, baseball was not only a few hours of escapism during jittery times, but important again.
"It's not nationalistic. It's not subdued. It's a playoff game, and everyone here really hates the Yankees," said Mario Goes of San Francisco, fearlessly wearing a New York cap.
Seconds earlier, an A's fan had placed his hand on Goes' right shoulder and shouted, "The Yankees suck!"
So much for national unity.
In any case, playoff tension ran high during a game in which the A's had a chance to eliminate the masterful Yankees and move into the American League Championship Series.
Playoff hysteria swept through every parking lot and tunnel of the coliseum long before the game began. Spectators rang bells, beat drums, double-fisted beers and screamed about nothing in particular, seemingly unloading a full month of stress right on the spot.
Other fans carried broom sticks, symbolizing that the A's would sweep the Yankees 3-0. They didn't. The Yankees won 1-0.
"It's great to see this type of atmosphere," said Yankees fan Vinnie Tripi, of San Jose, taking a cigarette break inside a stadium tunnel. "Baseball gives me a chance to get away from it all."
Under a cloudless blue sky, thousands of fans crowded near the ticket gates before the first pitch, soaking up sunshine and America's pastime.
Security officers were spotted everywhere. The parking lot was under constant surveillance, and squad cars, lights flashing, protected every entrance into the sprawling stadium grounds.
Planes were restricted from flying overhead. Only gulls were seen there, drifting in lazy circles.
Only a few people acknowledged having any concerns about being in a stadium during a period of heightened tension about terrorism.
"I'm a little nervous about being here," said Charlie Schultz of Concord, who became a season ticket holder earlier this year. "My wife didn't want to come.
"In fact," he added, "she hasn't wanted to go to any games since Sept. 11. I just hope to God that nothing happens."
Others simply convinced themselves that they were being personally protected.
One woman sitting near the A's dugout pointed behind her. "That's a police officer," she said, fingering a man in a T-shirt and jeans. "And he said he brought his gun."
Nearby, longtime season ticket holders Hugh Jones and Louise Irvin-Jones settled into their familiar seats in Section 119, behind the A's dugout.
Louise, whose straw hat was adorned with tiny pins and buttons, dismissed any concerns about her security, saying: "I don't want to think about what could happen -- that's like a comet falling out of the sky. It happens when it happens."
The Danville couple bonded at the ballpark during the early 1970s, after Hugh's son, Scott, was killed in Vietnam.
Long afternoons were spent at the coliseum, where Hugh kept score of the games that helped dull the pain of losing his favorite son in battle.
"During World War II, Roosevelt didn't make them stop playing baseball," Hugh said. "People had to keep moving. Of course, the best players were in the service. But they did the best with what they had."
Of course, Saturday's playoff game meant different things to different people.
Marla Samuel, a former security guard at the Chronicle Pavilion, said one of the features included watching A's shortstop Miguel Tejada stretch out before the game. "I know he's married with kids," she said, "but he's still hot."
Contra Costa Newspapers
Oct. 14, 2001
OAKLAND -- Baseball fans poured into Network Associates Coliseum on Saturday under heightened security, with double the amount of uniformed officers on patrol.
Few seemed to notice.
Instead, they cursed the New York Yankees and gulped beer.
Playoff fever has once again gripped the Bay Area, giving nervous residents here a diversion from the grim possibilities of further terrorist strikes against the United States.
The Oakland A's played host to Game 3 of the American League Division Series against New York, the three-time defending world champions.
Suddenly, baseball was not only a few hours of escapism during jittery times, but important again.
"It's not nationalistic. It's not subdued. It's a playoff game, and everyone here really hates the Yankees," said Mario Goes of San Francisco, fearlessly wearing a New York cap.
Seconds earlier, an A's fan had placed his hand on Goes' right shoulder and shouted, "The Yankees suck!"
So much for national unity.
In any case, playoff tension ran high during a game in which the A's had a chance to eliminate the masterful Yankees and move into the American League Championship Series.
Playoff hysteria swept through every parking lot and tunnel of the coliseum long before the game began. Spectators rang bells, beat drums, double-fisted beers and screamed about nothing in particular, seemingly unloading a full month of stress right on the spot.
Other fans carried broom sticks, symbolizing that the A's would sweep the Yankees 3-0. They didn't. The Yankees won 1-0.
"It's great to see this type of atmosphere," said Yankees fan Vinnie Tripi, of San Jose, taking a cigarette break inside a stadium tunnel. "Baseball gives me a chance to get away from it all."
Under a cloudless blue sky, thousands of fans crowded near the ticket gates before the first pitch, soaking up sunshine and America's pastime.
Security officers were spotted everywhere. The parking lot was under constant surveillance, and squad cars, lights flashing, protected every entrance into the sprawling stadium grounds.
Planes were restricted from flying overhead. Only gulls were seen there, drifting in lazy circles.
Only a few people acknowledged having any concerns about being in a stadium during a period of heightened tension about terrorism.
"I'm a little nervous about being here," said Charlie Schultz of Concord, who became a season ticket holder earlier this year. "My wife didn't want to come.
"In fact," he added, "she hasn't wanted to go to any games since Sept. 11. I just hope to God that nothing happens."
Others simply convinced themselves that they were being personally protected.
One woman sitting near the A's dugout pointed behind her. "That's a police officer," she said, fingering a man in a T-shirt and jeans. "And he said he brought his gun."
Nearby, longtime season ticket holders Hugh Jones and Louise Irvin-Jones settled into their familiar seats in Section 119, behind the A's dugout.
Louise, whose straw hat was adorned with tiny pins and buttons, dismissed any concerns about her security, saying: "I don't want to think about what could happen -- that's like a comet falling out of the sky. It happens when it happens."
The Danville couple bonded at the ballpark during the early 1970s, after Hugh's son, Scott, was killed in Vietnam.
Long afternoons were spent at the coliseum, where Hugh kept score of the games that helped dull the pain of losing his favorite son in battle.
"During World War II, Roosevelt didn't make them stop playing baseball," Hugh said. "People had to keep moving. Of course, the best players were in the service. But they did the best with what they had."
Of course, Saturday's playoff game meant different things to different people.
Marla Samuel, a former security guard at the Chronicle Pavilion, said one of the features included watching A's shortstop Miguel Tejada stretch out before the game. "I know he's married with kids," she said, "but he's still hot."
posted by Corey at 10:45 PM
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