Hundreds of Thousands Celebrate Yanks in Lower Manhattan
By Matt Dunning
Nine years removed from their last World Series championship, the New York Yankees—and their fans—once more found themselves on top of the world in Lower Manhattan.
Just as it has been for New York sports champions for more than 50 years, Downtown was showered in streamers, confetti and whatever other paper products fans could get their hands on during the ticker tape parade Friday morning in honor of the Bronx Bombers 27th World Series title. Thousands of Yankee faithful stuffed the sidewalks along Broadway to see Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera and the rest of their favorite players aboard glittering parade floats that traveled from Battery Park to Chambers Street.
For many, it seemed, those nine years were like a lifetime.
“It should be every year,” Andrew Buccafusca of New Rochelle. A lifelong Yankee fan born and raised in the Northeast Bronx, Buccafusca, 48, said he still remembers the team’s first parade in 1978, as well as the string of celebrations from 1996 through 2000. This, however, he said he would always remember as the year his two children, Joseph and Bianca, got to see the parade for the first time.
“They’re pumped about it, without a doubt,” Buccafusca said. “My son was up at 5:30 a.m., on his own. To see these guys do what they did, it was great.”
Eleven-year-old Milo Hughes, of Park Slope in Brooklyn, was also witnessing his first Yankee parade. Perched on his father’s shoulders for the better part of an hour, Milo grinned as he looked up at fistfuls of confetti being jettisoned out of open office windows above the street and then as the players passed by. When designated hitter Hideki Matsui, declared the series’ Most Valuable Player, rode past the spot near Bowling Green that they had staked for themselves, Milo and his father, Omar Avilez, both joined in the fervent chant of “M.V.P., M.V.P., M.V.P.”
“I’ve been to a few games, but I’ve never seen the guys this up-close,” Milo said. “I’ve grown up with the Yankees. They’re what I know, and they’re who I am. They’re a part of me.”
Thousands could not get close. In Federal Plaza, the crowds pressed forward toward the Municipal Building and tried to get a good view of the Jumbotron. Some people started chants, or blew air horns. One man started shouting, "MVP!" when Hideki Matsui was shown smiling bashfully on the big screen.
"I could've stayed home for this!" muttered one man.
"Let's just go back to Brooklyn," said another, with his three daughters.
Near Broadway and Duane Street, two blocks north of where the parade ended, a cop was trying to disperse frustrated fans hoping to get a view of the players.
"I'm being honest with you, you stand right here, you're not going to see anything," she told them. "This is not a viewing area. You need to move north."
One man said he had come from three hours away in upstate NY and was disappointed he couldn't get closer. He briefly argued with the officer, but she remained firm.
"Folks, this is not a viewing area!" she repeated. "You might as well go home."
"No way we're going home now!" replied another fan.
All morning, a cold November wind whipped through Lower Manhattan, but fans didn't seem to mind the chill as they waved World Series flags and homemade signs in the hours before the parade. One man marched up and down the sidewalk hoisting a small red coffin emblazoned with the Philadelphia Phillies—the Yanks’ opponents in the series—insignia on one side and a picture of Philadelphia pitcher Pedro Martinez on the other. Two more men strode through the crowd without shirts, their torsos painted in white with blue Yankee pinstripes. Teenagers on either side of Broadway passed the waiting time by trading volleys in an impromptu tissue-paper battle. A few anti-Boston chants were thrown in for good measure amid the cheers. Up and down the parade route, children and adults climbed trees, scaffolding, lampposts and even building facades to get a better view of the champions as the 11 a.m. start time drew closer.
“I wanted to see how excited they were to win the World Series and everybody going crazy and stuff,” said 13-year-old Denise Walker as she waived her homemade sign, which read, “27 World Series Titles and Counting.”
Celebrating a championship with a ticker tape parade, a tradition in New York since the Giants won the 1954 World Series, isn’t only good for the city’s ego. While fans might skip work for the festivities, Downtown merchants, vendors and restaurant owners say that the parades can mean big money.
“It’s always exciting when they do one of these,” said Willie Nicolini, a Bronx native and manager at the Au Bon Pain pastry and sandwich shop at Broadway and Ann Street. Decked out in his Yankees shirt and headband, Nicolini was busily ushering parade-goers into the shop for hot chocolate.
”It’s good because it brings people into the city,” he said. “It’s been peaceful, no fights or anything. It’s great for Downtown. It’s great for business.”
Further south on Broadway, the Café Exchange deli was also turning a brisk business following the parade, although just as many revelers were using it as a passageway onto Trinity Place.
“Look at this mess,”Arturo Olivares, a manager at the deli, said with a smile as he surveyed the confetti-covered floor in front of him. “It goes both ways. It’s good for the business, and its good for everybody to come down and enjoy themselves. You just have to look at it the right way.”
As much as an hour after the parade, pizza counters and hot dog vendors were mobbed with hungry fans. Anwar Gedad, who was set up at Trinity Place and Cedar Street, said he ran out of hot dog buns only an hour and a half after he opened. Souvenir sellers patrolled the side streets and avenues neighboring Broadway with shopping carts full of Yankee-themed knickknacks and armfuls of commemorative t-shirts. One man, who identified himself only as Damone, said sales were vastly improved from the 2000 championship, the team’s third in as many years.
“This is one of the better ones,” he said. “After they win too many in a row, things tend to die down. Nine years, ten years go by, now they’re ready again.”
"If you don't make it today, forget about it,” said David Robinson, 60, who had set up two long tables draped with Yankees merchandise on the corner of Elk and Reade Streets. By 11am, he estimated he'd made around $300, and was still selling.
“I don't dislike the Yankees, but I go where the resources are," he said as he rubbed his fingers together to indicate money. “I get a meal tonight.”
As the parade ended and the crowds dispersed across Lower Manhattan, some fans lingered at the barricades on Broadway to soak in the sights and sounds. Confetti and debris covered sidewalks, piled inches thick in some spots. Streamers and reams of printer paper dangled from flagpoles and tree branches. In distance, the PA system at City Hall set up for Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s address boomed hip-hop music. The formal celebration was over, but the fan festival—the one that lasts until Opening Day 2010—had just begun.
“You never know, you may never get to see another one again,” 15-year-old Staten Island resident Nick Questel, Jr. “You’ve got to take the opportunity when it happens.”
— Additional reporting by Eleanor Miller