I have to admit I found it strange how many times I thought of Yankee Stadium this week. With the old ballpark ready to close its doors for the last time, it sorta felt like I was leaving my childhood home once again.
I understand that progress waits for no man, and the new Yankee Stadium seems poised to offer a great baseball viewing experience, but sometimes new doesn't necessarily mean good. If I had my choice, would I trade the old Yankee Stadium for a new, $1 billion coliseum across the street? Nope, but that's just me. I like a place where the walls can talk, where the grass whispers stories of yesteryear in your ear as you watch the game, and where you can look out onto the field and, if you try hard enough, can still see Joe Dimaggio and Mickey Mantle flagging down fly balls in center field.
I think a part of it, for me, is that the more we lose places like Yankee Stadium, the further away we get from our past. We lose that touch, that feel we still keep with our ancestors, with only the uncertain future staring us in the face.
But none of that matters. At this time next year we will have a new stadium, and a new Yankee team to talk about. It is hard, however, to wipe the memories away without feeling a few tears well up inside.
I remember my first Yankee game. It was 1987 I believe, I was 9 year's old, and it was a Yankee/Red Sox clash in the Bronx. Just like everyone else, I remember how big that stadium looked to me, how bright and clear the colors were, and I remember catching a glimpse of Don Mattingly, my favorite player, for the first time. It was exhilirating. The Yankees lost that day, 10-8, but Mattingly hit a home run, a young Roger Clemens was knocked out of the game early when he was hit on the foot, Wade Boggs got booed A LOT, and there must have been 6 or 7 fights in the stands that day.
Another memory: Sitting in the bleachers with my friend for game 2 of the 1995 ALDS against the Mariners. This was the first time the Yanks had tasted the playoffs since 1981 and the crowd was utterly electric. I remember every aspect of that game, how Ken Griffey Jr. put on a performance I will never forget, hitting two home runs, making great defensive plays, and seemingly carrying his team on his back. I remember the Ruben Sierra near homer off the top of the wall that tied, and almost won, the game in the bottom of the ninth and, of course, Jimmy Leyritz, as clutch as they come, just getting the ball out in right field to win it in the 15th. But what I will remember most about that game was the back-to-back home runs by Don Mattingly and Paul O'Neill. I have never felt a stadium move before like it did when Mattingly blasted that homer into the seats. It was as if they whole place literally had life breathed into it.
Then, the greatest game I have ever seen live: David Cone's perfect game. I won't bore you with every detail, but some of my favorite memories from that day are: my friend was suppose to join us that day but, instead, decided to stay home and finish up some studying for a class he was taking that summer. While he was a Mets fan, his favorite player was David Cone, and when he got home from the library and turned on the game, the first words he heard from Tim McCarver were "this is the greatest game I have ever seen pitched." It is still a sore subject for him; I remember two Mets fans sitting in front of myself and my friend, constantly mentioning that Cone was pitching a perfect game. Only truly hard-core fans understand how immoral that was. I, and my buddy, were probably an inning away from getting into a brawl. How DARE they try and jinx Coney. Alas, like most things in Mets land, their efforts failed miserably; I remember it rained that day, which was necessary because of how hot it was (especially in the bleachers) but the concern was that Coney wouldn't come out after the delay. Remember, Cone was older then, the Yanks were actually in a pennant race, and he had arm problems. Thank GOD Joe Torre sent him back out there; finally, I remember, after the hysteria of the celebration on the mound, no one wanted to leave. People just stood there, looking out on the field, smiling and high-fiving. A few minutes after everything had settled down, Cone walked back out onto the field and he pointed directly to the bleachers, thanking all the fans who had been so vocal, so forceful throughout the game. It was a special moment. It felt personal. It felt like we, each one of us, had a hand in helping him achieve such an amazing goal. I'll never, ever forget that.
But as amazing as that game was, it is not my favorite Yankee Stadium memory.
In the early 1990's (maybe 92 or 93) I went to a day-night double header against the Tigers, who still had Cecil Fielder and Rob Deer and all those big hitters who never had a big pitcher to help them out. Anyway, the first game the Yankees won easily, scoring a few times in the middle innings and holding on. By the second game, half the stadium had cleared out. This was not the glory days in the Bronx. The team was a collection of players that barely seemed to make up a team and getting a Yankee ticket was about as hard as getting a subway ticket.
My friend and I moved down to the good seats and by the ninth inning the Yanks found themselves down by 1 run. Two quick outs and then a base hit. I forget who, exactly, got on, or who was coming up next, but what I do remember is that, as the batter took his spot in the box, getting ready to hit, Don Mattingly strolled out of the dugout to the on deck position. Mattingly hadn't played in either of the two games, nursing a sore hand bruised as he hustled into second base one day, but here he was, getting ready to pinch hit, getting ready to take the game in his hands.
There must have been only 5,000 people in the stands by that time, but the roar that erupted from them was nearly deafening. No one was watching the at bat. They were watching Mattingly and going WILD. People were stomping and cheering and chanting "Donnie Baseball" over and over. The batter in the box simply became a part of a greater story. Had he won it with a two out home run, everyone in attendance would have been disappointed. We wanted to see our hero, Donnie Baseball, step to the plate with the game on the line. That was the hollywood ending we wanted.
The baseball Gods were kind. The batter drew a hard-fought walk. Men on first and second, two outs, down by one run, and Mattingly walked up to the plate. The noise, the excitement was overwhelming. THIS was what sports was all about. Not the great moment in the great game, but the great moment in the meaningless game, the ones that surprise you the most and stay with you forever. The ones that feel personal to you.
As Mattingly stood in, he crouched down into his usual batting stance, readied himself for the pitch. Fastball, inner half of the plate. Quick bat, through the zone. Good wood. From the crack of the bat, you knew Mattingly had crushed it, and as the ball sailed into the right field corner the runner from second easily scored. Tie game. Mattingly on second, runner on third, new game, new life.
In that moment, 5,000 people made a noise you wouldn't think 50,000 could. It was an explosion, and as pitchers were changed the crowd serenaded their hero with a standing ovation.
The Tigers would get out of the inning and send the game to extras, where, in the 11th, Wade Boggs would hit an upper deck home run to win it. But, for me, the memory was Mattingly walking out of that dugout, sending a small crowd into a loud frenzy, and giving me a moment I will never forget.
This year has been pretty deviod of such moments. I, like the rest of Yankee land, has spent a lot of time laying the blame for such a bad season at the feet of so many different people. But over this last week I took a different view. See, this stadium has provided more AMAZING moments than one place should ever be allowed. Whether you look at it as the stadium built in 1923 or the one refurbished in 1976, it is still the House That Ruth Built, kept alive by one great game after another.
I look at this season and simply say the old girl just didn't have any magic left. She used it all up. While we all would have liked her to go out with another pile of championship players, leap frogging one another on the mound at the end of October, the truth is she is tired. She wants to rest. She wants to go to sleep for the last time.
By next year, a new grand stadium will be up and running. Who knows what kind of memories will be made there. Will this new stadium have the same character, same flair for the dramatic as her mother did? Who knows. One can only hope. But, this weekend is a time to remeber why we are all Yankee fans, remember why we love this team, through the good and through the bad, and to look back for a moment before we are forced to look forward.
So, goodnight old lady. We love you, and we will miss you.
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