How did the Yankees, Red Sox feud start?
I wouldn't call it a feud. But it is a hell of a rivalry. The history goes back to 1920. The Red Sox were an excellent team in the 1910s, especially after signing an excellent pitcher who also hit pretty good by the name of Babe Ruth. Meanwhile the Yankees were a bad team that did not even have it's own ballpark, instead leasing space from and playing second fiddle to the New York Giants. In 1920, hurting for cash, the Red Sox owner sold Babe Ruth and several other players to the Yankees, in part to generate cash to produce a Broadway play. The Yankees suddenly got very good and the Red Sox got very bad … for many years. The Red Sox failed to finish higher than 4th place from 1919 to 1938. In fact, the Yankees got so good that the Giants tossed them out of the Polo Grounds and Yankee Stadium was built.Up until the 1970s, the Yankees and Red Sox were rarely good at the same time, with the exception of some years during the Ted Williams eroa, late 30s through the 50s when the Red Sox went to a single world series, and had a few 2nd place finishes. This changed in the 70s when both teams were good with the Sox going to the World Series in 1975 and the Yankees the following three years. Both teams had some gritty hard nosed players such as the catchers on each team: Carlton Fisk and Therman Munson. There was a brutal fight between the teams in 1976. In 1978, the Yankees made up a huge deficit in the standings against the Red Sox and wound up tied, forcing a one game play off for first place which the Yankees won after being behind. The rivalry was on fire.Since then, the teams have often been first and second in the standings. They are now playing their fourth playoff series against each other. The Sox ended a nearly century long championship drought after coming back from a 3 games to 0 play off series deficit by winning 4 straight games in the 2004 playoffs.These are two frequently good teams in two baseball crazy towns whose games against each other are often high drama. Of course the rivalry is often about the fans more than the players. However it is great for the fans and great for the game.
What are some ways to tell a fake New Yorker apart from a real New Yorker?
The easiest way: their accents. No question. Assuming they can mimic one of the local variations, then:In Manhattan:1) they say "north" and "south"; New Yorkers say Uptown or Downtown.2) they are confused as to the direction they are facing on one-way Avenues. All New Yorkers know, for example, that Seventh Avenue heads downtown, and Third, for example, heads uptown. Get out of the subway and see which direction traffic is moving, you know which way to go.3) they say "Avenue of the Americas"; New Yorkers say "Sixth Avenue".4) Houston Street is pronounced "house-ton"5) they don't remember subway tokens6) they identify the subway line by its color (red, green, blue, etc.). New Yorkers by its number or letter (A-train, 1-train, etc.) Older New Yorkers like me may inadvertently say IRT, IND, etc (the original designations of the various lines). In fairness, that gets a look of confusion from anyone under the age of 40, even if they were born and bred New Yorkers.7) they don't know that the Borough of Manhattan is New York County, or that the Borough of Staten Island is Richmond County. Brooklyn is Kings, Queens is Queens, and the Bronx is the Bronx. And it's always "the Bronx".8) they can't give you directions to obvious landmarks. New Yorkers will give you precise directions to wherever you want to go, from wherever you are standing.9) they don't know that there are two "Mets", the Metropolitan Opera House, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And of course the baseball team, but that is not a place. 10) they don't know that Grand Central Station is a post office (ok, many New Yorkers don't either). The train station is Grand Central Terminal. And while it's acceptable to say "Penn" when you mean Penn Station, it's never acceptable to say "Grand", but rather always "Grand Central"11) they don't realize that if you are in the outer boroughs, when people refer to "the City" they mean Manhattan, not the entire City of New York12) They call neighborhoods by their more recent fashionable names, like "Clinton" instead of "Hell's Kitchen". Real New Yorkers of a certain age will always say "Hell's Kitchen", even though we know it is gone forever (which, trust me, is a good thing)In the Outer Boroughs:No one is pretending to be a New Yorker. They all are, by birth or assimilation.
How many times in your life (approximately, if needs be) have you eaten at McDonalds between midnight and 4am?
Just one time, but the story may sound a bit made up.Last summer, I was visiting my best friend in New York. One day we were extremely bored, and kept going back and forth with the whole “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” thing.Finally around 5:30 PM or so she suggested we take a trip to a nearby state, I want to say Pennsylvania, just for the sake of it. However, that gave me an even grander idea.I did a quick Google search before suggesting, “What about Canada? Montreal is only like five hours from here…”After a few seconds of hesitation we decided to just go for it. By the time we rounded up our belongings and picked up her brother who wanted to tag along, and left town it was about 6:30.Skipping all of the crazy travel story, as that’d take ages and ultimately not add to this McDonald’s story, we made it to Montreal around 2 AM. A lot of stores were closed, but since our phones didn’t work across the border we wanted to find somewhere we could use WiFi, thus ending up in a McDonald’s by about 2:30.I ordered poutine— my first real (as real as McDonald’s can be) Canadian meal besides Tim Horton’s when we’d first crossed the border!While we were waiting on our food, her brother ended up in a conversation with a small group of people a few years older than us, all joking about either fighting or having a dance-off right then and there. We eventually joined as well before we all went and sat together.One of the guys claimed his name was McLovin’ (like from the movie Superbad), and joked about living in a small box — he used to have a bigger one, but someone took it. There was something about a cat too, if I recall correctly.Two of their group were dating, but kept making jokes along the lines of “oh, are you going to leave me for McLovin’? What about this guy? [Referring to my friend’s brother] I wouldn’t blame you, he’s pretty cute. But hey— don’t actually think about it!”Our new Canadian friends also laughed at me for getting McDonald’s poutine since, of course, it wasn’t by any means the legitimate thing.Unfortunately, we didn’t get any of their contact information or even their actual names (as first names and “McLovin’” are no help) so aside from our memories, we have nothing to show for our 3 AM Canadian McDonald’s friendship.Somehow, that makes it feel more special, though.
When did you realize you need to move out of New York City?
It was the Summer of 2001. I had just gotten pregnant with my first child, had finally gotten some great freelance gigs, including a adjunct position at a college teaching my specialty. After years of hard work, things were finally paying off for both my husband and me.And yet, one morning in June, I woke up, rolled over in bed and said to him “You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think I’m done. It’s been great, but I’m ready to go.” To my complete shock, he agreed. THAT VERY DAY he discovered a job ad for a firm that was absolutely perfect for him in every way up a bit higher on the Eastern Seaboard. He began the interviews the same week and within a month had the job. I could continue my work until my contracts ended by commuting. We moved on our wedding anniversary, August 31st.Twelve days later, September 11th, and all the horror and misery that came with it for NYC and the US. And my Brooklynneighborhood was never the same, really, was anything the same after? I went back into town the day the evac was lifted from below 14th to see my obstetrician and go to the first vigil after the event. I already felt like an outsider. It was terrible. I sobbed all the way down Broadway.To say that I had survivor’s guilt would be an understatement. I won’t go into details, but the towers had a direct, devastating significant impact on my immediate family. Eventually my husband and I divorced and my profession changed, making it more convenient, but not a bit easier to live away from the town I still consider my heart.I was once told that the only two ways you can live in New York is as a pauper or a king - the middle of the road only leads to ruin. I do believe that it can make or break you quicker and with more finality than any place in the country - and when you see that it is bleeding you dry, from either an emotional or a financial perspective, you might want to consider a change. Still, while I don’t consider my leaving a personal failure, I do often wish I had stayed if for no other reason than to hold it close and help it heal during those first few painful, confusing and difficult years after the towers fell.I still love you, New York.
What are some cultural faux pas in New York City?
Everyone's got such great lists. Here is mine. They pretty much all relate to the fact that so many people are crammed into such a tiny space.Don't stop in doorways, bottom or top of stairs or escalators. Go through and if you need to look around or root around in your bag or whatever, step aside.If you're in a busy place, be prepared! If you're going through the Union Square station during rush hour, for goodness sake, have your MetroCard in your hand and ready to swipe.Tables at restaurants are ridiculously close together. If it's a quiet place, then speak quietly. The whole restaurant doesn't need to hear you tell your friend about your process for picking out new window tapestries.Cover your mouth and nose when you cough or sneeze! There's almost always someone in front of you.Manspreading is evil. Don't do it. If you do, I hope someone kicks you in the nuts.Look where you walk. Seriously. Don't look behind you, down at your phone, or even to gaze lovingly at your date. You're in NYC baby! Someone is using gazelle-like timing so the don't ram into you. Not looking equals a pedestrian crash.Be helpful and courteous when you can. If you see a woman with a kid and stroller and you have an extra hand, offer to help her bring it up or down the subway steps. Offer your subway seat to an elderly person or pregnant woman or person with kids. Don't be an ass.Be respectful of celebrities. One easy way to tell a New Yorker from a tourist is how they react when they run into a celeb. New Yorker will smile, maybe a slight head nod, that's it. New Yorker sees them at a restaurant and keeps eating. Tourists ask for pictures, autographs, etc. If you have to bother them, do so politely. Remember, they don't owe you anything and they're not zoo animals.Lines are sacred. If you cut, best case, you'll get a tongue lashing from multiple people. Worst case, the biggest guy in the line will physically assist you to your proper place in line.Good luck!