Prescience steps to the plate
Sporting events seem to resonate so prophetically. It’s October. Number 22, Juan Soto is at bat. Ball one. Strike. Another strike. Yet, Juan doesn’t shy away. He leans in for a foul ball, taking a swing at everything coming. Finally, he forces the fast ball! Seven swings in, a three-run home-run is on deck. Seven… the number of completion, and three symbolizes perfection. This gave me all the feels, not only as a Yankee fan, but prophetically. Three years ago, on October 22nd, my sister was taken from me. She and her dog died under suspicious circumstances. Juan’s at bat simply reminded me to keep going, keep trudging through the noise to find the answers, to fill-in the blanks, to unearth the dark secrets, one swing at a time. Although, there have been misses, and foul balls, the home run is not far away. This year, God exposed some folks providing new information, My home run. Liberated from the burden of proof, I now celebrate God’s faithfulness. Relieved, my sister didn’t died in vain. As Juan bats two teammates in, he prognostically vindicates my sister, and her pet dog Misty.
It also represents me moving into the next. A shift of sorts. Me, swinging at everything the devil has thrown and finally dismantling the demonic networks sent to destroy my life. It’s like returning to sender all the lies, grief, hindrances and ungodly things I endured. I’m able to celebrate a long-awaited win, then step into something great: the big dance and arena not seen in fifteen years both literally and metaphorically. My deliverance has come, and who the Son sets free, is free indeed.
As a Yankee fan, it’s been fifteen long years of no World Series appearances. It also marks my last time selling food and drinks at Yankee Stadium. I dedicated my entire younger youth to both venues. I started at just seventeen years old, and I never looked back. Working as a vendor financially supported three degrees and proffered me life long friendships.
Former professional baseball vending
I’ll never forget the day I ditched class to attend a Yankee Stadium job interview. It was dead of Winter, and I was sixteen turning seventeen that February. Ironically, I wasn’t invited. I was hanging out in a third floor girls bathroom during technical drawing. It sufficed for not hanging out with friends on weekends or afterschool. I swear my foster mother had me on lockdown. In walks my friend from the girls basketball team. On sight, we ask the other what our afternoon plans entail. The rest is history. We ride the iron horse to 161st Street and River Avenue. Upon arrival, we progress toward a long gray hallway adorned to receive candidates. Without being asked, I reach for an application and begin its completion. A supervisor, Mr. Larry Howard, God Bless him, grimaces and asks, “What are you doing?” Of course, I tell him, I’m trying to obtain work. He chuckles and asks, “Do you have an appointment?” I told him, “I’m here with my friend.” At this point, they retrieve my friend for her interview. I truly thought I as gonna get thrown out. Instead, Mr. Howard grilled me. “How old are you? Me: “Seventeen.” “Well, you can’t work behind the counter.” Of course, I ask “Why?’ “Cause, you can’t sell beer. You’re not old enough. So, you have to hawk.” Clueless what a hawker was, I simply said, “Okay!”
Needless to say, I got the job. My friend did not. I felt awful, but I needed the money. Foster care didn’t pay well, and I only received $20/month for allowance. That means, I only had $20 to purchase feminine products, toiletries and everything else I wanted… which of course became very little. Anyway, April 6th, opening day, encompassed selling souvenir soda in the pouring rain in under 40 degrees. It even started flurrying at one point. I was cooked. I sold two-and-a-half trays that I carried barehanded. No gloves; no straps to support, just my frozen hands clinging to metal. I may have made $23. I vowed never return, but that day wouldn’t happen until August 2009 when I returned to Los Angeles to begin a new school year as an award winning art teacher.
Will the first be the last for the Yankees?
As a former Yankees’ professional hawker, I admit, I’m biased. I grew up in The Bronx, on the East side of things. University Avenue in Highbridge Gardens. So, I bleed pinstripes. Making it to the world’s biggest dance in baseball following a fifteen year hiatus means everything. 2009 serves as the inaugural year of YankeeStadium.2, and if prophecies are correct, 2024 may be the team’s last chance at any series as New York City may be doomed to destruction. Contemporary prophets of the body of Christ decree NYC as the Babylon mentioned in Revelation 18 (KJV).
18 And after these things I saw another angel come down from heaven, having great power; and the earth was lightened with his glory.
2 And he cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird.
3 For all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication, and the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth are waxed rich through the abundance of her delicacies.
4 And I heard another voice from heaven, saying, Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues.
5 For her sins have reached unto heaven, and God hath remembered her iniquities.
6 Reward her even as she rewarded you, and double unto her double according to her works: in the cup which she hath filled fill to her double.
7 How much she hath glorified herself, and lived deliciously, so much torment and sorrow give her: for she saith in her heart, I sit a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow.
8 Therefore shall her plagues come in one day, death, and mourning, and famine; and she shall be utterly burned with fire: for strong is the Lord God who judgeth her.
9 And the kings of the earth, who have committed fornication and lived deliciously with her, shall bewail her, and lament for her, when they shall see the smoke of her burning,
10 Standing afar off for the fear of her torment, saying, Alas, alas that great city Babylon, that mighty city! for in one hour is thy judgment come.
11 And the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her; for no man buyeth their merchandise any more:
Only time will tell. Following the upcoming, monumental, election in November, all shall be revealed. Let’s go, Yanks! Birthday Blessings to Juan Soto!
If you’d like to read my Bronx tale concerning a young vendor (Nyla) at a Bronx Stadium and how she navigates foster care, young love with Juan a promising MLB pitcher-to-be, and the ebbs and flows of corruption at a professional baseball stadium, check out my book, Beyond the Gate: Your ride awaits!