This Sunday was possibly the greatest day of my life, as it would have been for any true New York sports fan. For the first time in history, a baseball game and a football game played between the same two cities happened on the same day in the same city. It began with a drive down I-81 with my friend Nick, sacrificing our senior year Halloween night for a drive through Pennsylvania. When we checked into our hotel wearing a Yankee hats, I was immediately told to be careful: ”Keep your head down, don’t talk back and watch your ass. Philly fans are nuts.”

We got down to the hotel bar at about the seventh inning of Game 3 of the World Series to watch the Yankees cap off their 8-5 victory and take a 2-1 lead in the series. We then head into downtown Philadelphia for a victory drink or two. Not to our surprise, the most common Halloween costume was a dead Yankee player, bloodied and bruised.

The next morning the alarm rang at 10 a.m. After a quick breakfast, we put on our Giants jerseys and Yankees hats, and took off to Game 1 to see the New York Giants take on the Philadelphia Eagles. We showed up to the parking lot, welcomed by a roar of boos, curses and fingers. One guy even screamed, “You’re just as ugly as your mom!” with my mom right there. This is when I realized that this day was going to be more serious than I anticipated. Although the game was a blowout in the Eagles favor, the game was one of the craziest experiences of my life. The back-and-forth between rival fans, having pretzels thrown at me and receiving threats from the guy at the urinal next to me saying, “You’re lucky I’m not pissing on you right now, asshole,” barely skims the surface. It probably would have been significantly worse if the Giants didn’t lose 40-17.

As we walked out of the stadium, a man stopped us and asked if we were going to both games. When we replied “Yes,” he began to explain how he was with the New York Post and he would love to get a picture and a statement for the newspaper. He followed us back to our car, where we posed holding our tickets to both games.

A 0-1 record for the day wasn’t what I had hoped for at 4:30 p.m., but I didn’t worry about the Yankees coming away with a victory. We headed into downtown Philly again to meet up with some of Nick’s co-workers (he works at Yankee Stadium). As we walked into the restaurant, we saw the entire section of Yankees employees. As we wandered over, still wearing our New York attire, the same comments we had been hearing all day filled our ears. When we got on the subway to get to the stadium, the train car filled with chants, “Fuck the Yankees” being the most popular. If we weren’t with a good number of Yankees employees, I would have been scared for my life. Nonetheless, we got off the train alive and in one piece. Walking from the subway to the stadium, a man was preaching, “When the day of revelation comes, where do you want to be?” Immediately, Nick and I both responded in unison “Yankee Stadium!” The area immediately went into an uproar of boos.

When we got to our seats, we were happily surprised to find that we were in a section with about 10 other Yankee fans. Still wearing my Giants jersey, I got comments and insults about how the Eagles trampled the Giants earlier. “You won’t be wearing that jersey after Monday night,” I argued back. The hostility between fans was amazing, as fans of both teams were getting ejected left and right. The craziest point in the game was when Pedro Feliz tied the game at 4-4 in the bottom of the eighth inning. The stadium was in an uproar, and the lonely blue shirts in the sea of red were quiet for the first time in the night. But when A-Rod hit an RBI double in the ninth, followed by a Posada’s two-RBI double, the Phillies fans finally shut up, seeing the possibility of a repeat World Series victory diminish before their eyes with the Yankees’ 7-4 victory.

And now, sitting in the passenger seat of a Nissan Maxima coming back to Binghamton, using the last bit of gas in the tank and the last bit of money in our pockets, Nick and I are recalling a year’s worth of stories that happened in one day. It was such an amazing opportunity to go to a rival city and see two of my favorite teams play for first place in their respective sports. And when you’re reading this article on Tuesday morning, hopefully you have the same daydream that I do: the recollection of the pile of gray Yankees away jerseys in front of the pitcher’s mound in Citizens Bank Park, after the Yankees just won their 27th World Series championship, in Philadelphia.