Mike Vaccaro
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This isn’t necessarily a testament to how loud a building can get. But if you closed your eyes during John Amirante’s rendition of the national anthem the other night before Game 1 of the Rangers-Senators series, if you couldn’t actually see Amirante, then you wouldn’t have been able to say with certainty that he still was singing by the time he got around to the bombs bursting in air.
It also is not a testament to the absolute belief that a noisy crowd can assure anything, even though the Rangers did ride the wave of a jazzed-up, juiced-up Garden that night, beating the Senators 4-2.
But it is interesting to see how teams react to the home crowd. It isn’t just New York where you see that effect, of course. You go to any stadium or any arena in any city and you’re going to hear hometown athletes marvel at how engaged the home fans are. But for our purposes, in New York, we have known some awfully loud venues.
Everyone’s list is different, because most aren’t as lucky as your humble narrator to spend their days and nights watching games inside our municipal playgrounds. But here’s one man’s list of the five loudest moments I’ve ever experienced live in and around New York:
1. Larry Johnson’s four-point play, Game 3 of Eastern Conference finals vs. Pacers, June 5, 1999, Madison Square Garden: Remember, that was a day in New York that also included Charismatic’s run for the Triple Crown at Belmont Park and an eventful Mets-Yankees day at Yankee Stadium in which half of Bobby Valentine’s coaching staff was axed. But the moment LJ’s shot went down was the single loudest that I have ever heard sports, here or anywhere else. Honestly, my ears still were ringing the next night when I made my way to the Stadium to watch some baseball. The Garden made a sound you could somehow feel in your feet. Stunning.
2. Endy Chavez’s catch, NLCS Game 7 vs. Cardinals, Oct. 19, 2006, Shea Stadium: Proof positive that it really doesn’t matter how loud a crowd can get if you can’t scratch more than a run off Jeff Suppan, or if Aaron Heilman serves up a meatball to Yadier Molina, or if Adam Wainwright ... well, you know. Still, the moment Chavez plucked Scott Rolen’s ball from a good three feet beyond the left-field wall, then doubled up Jim Edmonds, I was afraid the auxiliary press box I was sitting in was going to become part of the left-field grandstand.
3. Scott Brosius’ game-tying homer, World Series Game 5 vs. D’backs, Nov. 1, 2001, Yankee Stadium: The funny part was that in the half-second before the sonic boom that nearly leveled the place, it was almost completely silent. Who could believe the Yankees had done this again? And yet the moment everyone realized that they had, indeed, tied a game for the second straight night with two outs in the ninth, it was sheer unfettered bedlam. And unlike the poor Mets, the Yankees almost never lose when they get that kind of energy boost.
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Madison Square Garden, New York, Mike VaccaroFollow Mike, Endy Chavez, Yankee Stadium, John Amirante
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