Now that’s a recess

Sunday, May 20, 2007 | 6:58 a.m.

If there's two things that Cox Communications School Day at Cashman Field recalls, the first is how splendidly brilliant the emerald green - with the exception of the yellow patch in front of the pitcher's mound - diamond looks at 10:30 in the morning.

The second is how neat it sounds with 7,000 fifth graders reacting to nearly every pitch - even the ones that Joe Mays, the former major leaguer, kept grooving for 'tweeners.

It was 10:29 a.m. when Mays completed his warm-up pitches Tuesday. Most of the other 51s and New Orleans Zephyrs were just rolling over in the outfield or hitting the snooze button in the on-deck circle, so Mays and Jose Santiago, his New Orleans counterpart, complied by inducing the first five batters to hit easy ground balls to their bright-eyed and bushy-tailed second basemen.

By then, the yellow and black school buses, bearing more than a passing resemblance to former Pittsburgh Pirates sluggers Willie Stargell and Dave Parker, had deposited their occupants at the front gate. The cacophony the school kids created, while impressive, made one thankful he had chosen some other vocation than that of fifth grade teacher or utility infielder who had stayed out all night playing blackjack.

For instance, when Cosmo, the 51s oversized mascot, was introduced the school kids cheered like crazy instead of telling him to get out of the way because he was blocking the left side of the infield.

The 51s fell way behind early, although the kids didn't seem to mind that Mays was getting whacked like Christopher Moltisanti and that James Loney, the 51s first baseman, had just fielded a bunt like he was shoveling snow.

Most of the kids, that is.

"How much longer are we going to be here?" one of the fifth graders fidgeting in the sun-baked bleachers called out to nobody in particular after Loney tried to throw the ball to the pitcher or second baseman - it was hard to tell which - without using his hand.

But for every kid upset by the 51s' improvisational defense, there were 100 standing in line for Sno-Kones or Buzz Aldrin ice cream, which is what I call those little frozen pellets that look like something a Lunar Module pilot might feast on after hitting fungoes at the Sea of Tranquility.

With the exception of the queue to use the restroom on Dollar Beer night, I have never seen a longer line at Cashman Field. It looked like Electronics Boutique the night before PlayStation 3 went on sale.

The line, much like Loney fielding that bunt, had hardly moved by the fourth inning when they played "YMCA" over the public address system and the bus drivers, most built like their patron saint Ralph Kramden, started dancing. Or at least imitating water buffaloes.

Other than the pitchers trying to swing the bat, it was the craziest thing I saw all day.