CREATURE COMFORTS SUIT CONE
Saturday, April 6th 2002, 1:64AM
While we were busy tailgating yesterday morning on the rooftop of a Stadium garage, consuming many fluids in ritualistic fashion, someone mentioned that David Cone might drop in on us for Opening Day.
"If he doesn't bring the beer, he's out," Mike Donahue decided.
But then Cone showed up in Section 39, just as he said he would, wearing a brown leather jacket and smiling wide under his golf cap. He wasn't wearing a tie, he didn't paint his face and he wasn't knocking around a beach ball. So we let him stay.
Before we could really embrace Cone as a true Creature, however, something needed to be straightened out. Something important.
"How come you played for the Red Sox last year?" Bald Vinny demanded.
"It's going to take all day to give that answer," Cone said.
He sounded apologetic. Plus, he was unemployed, like many of the Creatures.
So we forgave him that unfortunate episode in Boston, and those nightmarish Met seasons, and the fact that he was miked for his appearance. Try as we might to be cool, the Creatures fell all over ourselves, chatting up and hanging out with our new pal, Big League David.
"Who was the last Yankee to sit with you people?" we screamed at the box seaters. And, of course, they had no answer.
Teddy Ketcham and Milton Ousland - the cowbell man - flanked Cone, safeguarding him from anybody who wanted autographs, except ourselves. "I'm with the cowbell guy," Cone said, signing Milton's mini-bat. "These guys are protecting me." He joined us in a mildly abusive, anti-box seat chant. Then Cone was invited to start the roll call.
"Yo, Bernie!" Cone shouted, after the first pitch. We took it from there. Big League David officially became a 2002-er, which means he started coming to games in the bleachers this season, which means he doesn't have any seniority but has begun to turn his life in a positive direction.
"Right about now, I'd be all stressed out on the mound," Cone said, watching the Yankees win, 4-0. "This is great. I love the view. It's a lot less stressful out here."
The Creatures discussed many things with Cone, from Luigi the batboy to what the players thought of us (they love us, of course). Basically, we all made fools of ourselves.
"I'm surprised Teddy didn't throw Cone his underwear to sign," Donahue said.
Because Cone was a 2002-er, he didn't know certain things had changed for Opening Day. He didn't realize that Milton's shiny black cowbell was new, looking a lot like it came from Home Depot.
He didn't know that Sheriff Tom Brown (who was driven to the game by D.U.I. James under a tarp in the back of a pickup truck) had a new, bigger star on his chest.
He didn't know that Tina was healthier, happier, and back in New York. "Nobody should ever live in New Jersey," she said. He didn't know that John McCarthy had slicked back his hair and started drinking in the offseason, or that the mustard all over Kevin Dillon's jacket was still there from when everyone went crazy after Scott Brosius' homer in Game 5.
So there was a lot of catching up to do.
"I'm not going anywhere," Cone said, signing Tony Capone's ticket stub.
Cone made a few rookie mistakes. He sat in Section 37 instead of Section 39, and he aggravated that error by writing a 34, instead of a 39, on the bill of Milton's cap.
"You're suddenly such a good friend of his," Anthony Griek said to Milton. "Go tell him to come over to Section 39, will you?"
Overall, Cone conducted himself with appropriate modesty, praising us for the amazing fans that we are.
"The place to be," he called the bleachers.
"I remember when the roll call started, we didn't really know what to do," Cone said. "But the fans were so persistent about it."
For the record, not every former player or celebrity will be welcomed into our bleachers. We do not want Dennis Quaid showing up to promote his movie. Cone was first. That counts for something.
One of us asked Cone if he could see returning to the Bronx roster by midseason.
"Got any voodoo dolls?" he said, laughing. He meant that one of the Yankee starters would have to get hurt.
Big League David had cracked his first bleacher joke. He'll be rolling down our benches by the time the Mets come to visit.
E-mail: fjbondy@netscape.net
