New York. Things are not what they used to be for anyone, anywhere, but especially here. One wonders if you should breathe the air. Anybody running on the sidewalk, for the most innocent of reasons, causes a jolt in the nervous system. Nevertheless, the World Series goes on.

For game three at Yankee Stadium on Tuesday, the president came to throw out the first pitch and try to redefine “normalcy.” There was nothing “normal” about the visit.

The press lines for those covering the game as a sports event began to form at 1 p.m. for an 8:30 first pitch. Every bag was checked and rechecked. “Have your credential and your photo ID out please,” said the security people.

There were 1,200 New York City police, an unannounced number of New York State police, FBI agents, secret service agents, private security guards, and armed Federal troops conspicuously present. Unlike the airport security folks, they at least said “please.”

Of course, unlike the airport security folks, these guys have automatic weapons. It must be easier to say “please” with that slung over your shoulder. It certainly is a lot easier to say “OK.”

Once inside, you could easily believe you had entered an Orwellian future world of big brothers, all equipped with an earpiece for every ear and at least two phones each. Everyone hoped their handy dandy cell phones worked better than most in steel structures. We were counting on it.

At 7:30 only about half the stadium was full when normally it would be jammed and rocking with chants during batting practice. The lines outside were endless. “Don’t even think about bringing a backpack in,” the faithful had been warned. They didn’t, but the lines were endless anyway.

At 8, two helicopters appeared in the air over the famed outfield fa?ade of Yankee Stadium. The press covering the event as a news story had arrived with the President in tow, or was it the other way around?

It was lock-down time. Wherever you were at that moment in the stadium was where you were going to be for a while. The elevators were off limits and the ramps to the seats were closed. Those outside would wait a while longer.

As the president moved to enter the park, “floating security zones” came to exist. Where he was going and where he just came from were off limits if you didn’t have those things in your ears and one of “those” lapel pins on your jacket.

The limited presidential press corps, there to record the first pitch as an historical event, were ushered as lambs through the stadium tunnels, into the Yankee dugout, and then onto the field, passing behind home plate and into their positions on the third base line.

The president throws right-handed so that was where the White House officials wanted the cameras to be to get the facial view of the ceremonial first pitch.

The players became fans, trying to figure out where they were supposed to be in this event before the event. A couple of them headed out to do their pregame sprints in the outfield, but someone with one of “those” lapel pins thought they might want to remain in the dugout a while longer. They did.

The president threw a strike and Arizona manager Bob Brenley wondered if big “B” might be available to pitch game four. That would make his decision about who to pitch a lot easier. Unfortunately, it seemed the president had reached his pitch limit for the Series and Brenley would have to make his own history.

The president then moved upstairs to sit in the Yankee owner’s bow to watch a few innings. The boss, with a small “b” (George Steinbrenner), greeted the former managing partner of the Texas Rangers, that’s “Boss” with a big “B” (the president). Little “b” complained about the umpiring and big “B” said, “I see not much has changed.”

See, everything is normal.

Old Town native Gary Thorne is an ESPN and NBC sportscaster.