The Best Seat in the House

It's not Billy Wagner's last pitch as a Met that keeps me up all night.

It's not a potentially playoff-less Yankees- something I have dreamed of for my entire pubescent career- that has me going back and forth.

No, its something so simple yet so complicated.

It's a couple of chairs.

..............................


Those who know me know I love to sit.

I am a sitting machine. Some people were born to shop. Some people were born to hit a baseball out of fenway. Some, like Sip, can just sit.

As a wee-lad it was a black spinning chair in front of my television that caught my eye.

Then, it was a step in my living room that became my home for ballgames and dinners.

A black futon with a flannel sheet on it served my bottom well for much of my high school days.

Then, a red velvet chair that I bought for like 45 pesos in west philadelphia got me thru much of college and my years after.

Sitting...So simple, yet so important.


......................


But my favorite seat of my life has always been that uncomfortable red chair from the upper deck of Shea Stadium.

It was the only chair that I never replaced or moved on from.

It was where I sat and was truly happy. Friendships developed, Families bonded and experiences were had on those ugly red chairs.

Rey Rey's throw from his knees; Kevin Mcreynolds grand slam home run; Robin's grand slam single; the 10 run 8th; Game 5 of the World Series.

Some of the best and worst moments of my life happened in those seats.

And now they are up for sale.


2 chairs, $869.

Thats a lot of Michelobs.

It's a funny thing this internal debate of mine.

I don't know if I can see myself living in a world where I had the opportunity to buy a seat from Shea and didn't.

Yet, I find myself with 869 reasons not to make the purchase.

Ahhh, to be a blogger.

I thought about starting a Sippy Momo Shea Stadium Seat Foundation, but then I realized, I have money, people should use theres for something more important.

So now I just wait in indecisiveness.

In the end I'll probably make the play.

But until that time comes, there is no grindstone to keep my ear to.

Vaya,
sip

(pic courtesy of nytimes.com)