I like going to ball parks at stadiums other than Yankee Stadium, because it would seem as though going to the game is actually an enjoyable pleasant experience that doesn’t make you want to kill people.
The difference I immediately notice is the ushers at the competing parks. I was at a game in Colorado and a foul ball was ripped into the stands. I was shocked by what happened next. An usher actually came over to the fans and asked if everyone was OK.
Are you kidding me? Yankee Stadium ushers would never offer such a comment. They’d be laughing with their friends throwing around, “Ah shit’s,” and, “Damn, tha’s gotta hurt.”
This isn’t even to mention the fact that when a guy almost got his head knocked off by a line drive, the priority was to help him. Stunning. As any true New Yorker knows, the priority is to get the foul ball. You’re at a baseball game.
The stupid Colorado usher was there making sure that the guy wasn’t dead. In New York, you’re lying inches away from death, and the ushers, along with every other logical fan, are climbing over you trying to get the ball.