It's called the Subway Series for a reason...

Forty-seven minutes. From the back door of Yankee Stadium to the front door of Shea, forty-seven minutes were all I needed to prepare for this second leg of baseball. 

Of course, there were further complications. There always are underground, where I took the No. 4 train to Grand Central Station, then hooked up with the No. 7 train out to Flushing. The first leg wasn't bad -- it really wasn't -- but the second train was packed with people. Some of them commuting home from work, some heading out of town for the weekend, others still doing the same thing I was doing.

Luckily, there was relief at the end in a curious form: pudding. Kozy Shack pudding was handing out miniature cups of its product, and I made sure to swerve in line and get one. Not a bad reward for forty-seven minutes. Then again, neither is baseball.