Carl made the journey on his birthday to Yankee Stadium to see the Yankees take on the Angels. While he took in a great game (despite the loss), this night was about more than just a game. It can be considered a historical field trip that will never be forgotten.
NEW YORK - You are taking the number 4 train just past 149th Street and Grand Concourse when you hear the voice address announcer say the following:
"The next stop is "161st Street-Yankee Stadium".
You hear that and you know what is coming next. Through the tunnel and into the sunlight (assuming it is not cloudy); you see the old ballpark in The Bronx staring right at you. Only yards away from it, you can sense the excitement that not only you, but the people around you have.
Some make the trek daily. Others have been to it enough to where they are not fazed. And there are those who are visiting the place for the very first time who look at the place in awe.
For me, I have been to The Stadium numerous times not to be fazed. This time it was different. I knew that there was the real possibility that this could be last time I may ever step foot inside Yankee Stadium.
It was my birthday and there was no better present I could be given than to take in a Yankees game on this night. Take all other gifts and ideas and just throw them away. Nothing else was going to top this.
I went on Craigslist early in the morning and within 30 minutes, there was a guy named Victor who had seats out in the right field bleachers for $50 each. Great deal. Mind you, the original face for those seats is $12, but those seats have always been underpriced. Headed down into Times Square around lunch hour to meet him to pick them up and I was set for the night.
Of course, getting there was part of the equation. For some reason, the subway was going unusually slow from 59th Street heading up. Was this Chicago here? I rarely see slow zones in New York, but this was a first. The conductor mentioned there were trains ahead, but the first pitch was minutes away and I had little patience.
My long time college friend Denis and I got to the game in the middle of the second inning. We were not trying to mimic the fans in Los Angeles; at least we had a legitimate excuse.
I looked around the place for a bit and took in the history that was not going to be there any longer. There is sign right behind us that informs not just me but everyone else how many (regular season) games are remaining in the park (on that night - 21). What started at 81 when Opening Night began has now dwindled to a precious few. With the Yankees currently out of the playoff race, those would be the only games left to be played.
My camera was going to work overtime on this night. I was not going to miss anything. What I noticed early was that I was at an angle that was going to affect my picture.
Since I was facing home plate, getting the panoramic shot of the stadium was out of the question. My zoom was causing some shots to come out blurry that brought the anger level up a few notches. But watching Sidney Ponson on mound evading trouble in several innings put a smile back on my face.
Both he and Los Angeles Angels starter Ervin Santana waged a game long duel. Each inning, we all waited and held our breath in the expectation of what we thought would be the eventual Ponson Breakdown, usually making its appearance no later than the fifth inning.
This is what it has come to over the last few years. Optimism has been replaced by pessimism and doubt. Expecting the worse almost all the time.
What have we become, Red Sox fans circa 1919-2004?
However, on this night, it was different. Ponson worked his way out of trouble like a crafty veteran. Bending at times, but never giving in. For seven innings, he dealt shutout baseball to shock and awe of all of us.
Who knew?
A performance like that would be good enough to earn a victory on most nights. Despite the four walks, he had only given up two hits. The problem was that Santana was equally as good, if not more dominant. Blazing fastballs inside and out to overpower Yankee hitter s, and throwing his hard slider and other breaking pitches to make them look foolish at the same time.
Damaso Marte held the fort down in the eighth inning and Santana did the same. It was on to the ninth.
Enter Sandman.
You hear the theme music and the Stadium erupts. Mariano Rivera steps out of the bullpen through the door and slowly makes the jog to the mound.
Cameras flashed everywhere (including my own) trying to capture the moment seeing number 42 with the interlocking "NY" on the cap, wearing white with navy blue pinstripes, no name and just the number on the back, as he makes his way to the pitchers mound.
When he came in, a sense of worry filled my mind. The stats were there to be seen. Of all the runs Rivera had given up during the season (eight), all but two came in games where the Yankees were either tied or trailing. It has to go as the oddest baseball query in this generation. How can a pitcher this great mysteriously struggle in these types of situations.
Mark Teixeira led off the inning with a walk and the crowd and I began to groan. We all knew the stats were in play again. Vladimir Guerrero then followed with a base hit to right field and pinch runner Reggie Willits motored from first to third base. Runners were now on the corners with no one out and the feeling of dread had taken over the Stadium.
On a 1-0 pitch, Torii Hunter took Rivera's pitch back up the middle for a base hit to give the Angels the lead 1-0. The only sounds you could hear were that of the Angels fans that found their way to The Bronx cheering. The rest of us were simply resigned to shaking our heads in disbelief. Rivera had once more struggled and gave a run in a tie game. By count, it has to be the fifth time this has happened this season.
There is something about the Angels to where this more often than not seems to happen. On Thursday, they clubbed the Yankees for three homerun and scored 12 runs. Now tonight, they were on the right side of this duel. Whether it is lucky bounces, great plays or clutch hits, the team with the red Halo on the hat seems to get it against them. For the last seven years, it has happened like this.
Rivera would eventually get through the inning not giving up another run, but the damage had been done. Now the game was in the hands of their closer, Francisco Rodriguez. As I looked around, many denizens choose to either beat traffic or subway congestion and headed for the exit. 35 other times the team had scored two runs or less. Facing their closer and this suddenly unbeatable team, it felt as if the Yankees were down by more than just run.
Alex Rodriguez struck out looking on a changeup for the first out. Jason Giambi (under going a 'stache correction at the plate) flied out to left field for the second. Robinson Cano ended it with a groundout to second base.
Final: Angels 1, Yankees 0
It was not the greatest birthday celebration I could want. Perhaps a little luck would rub off on the team tonight, but Santana, Rodriguez and the Angels took all of that away.
The strange thing was that I was not ready to leave yet. I looked around and knew that this reality of never seeing the place again could exist. I made sure I took some pictures of myself overlooking the field and the scoreboard. Even though the NYPD was ushering all of us to head out, I told one of them that I just wanted to savior the moments just a minute or two longer, which they allowed.
I just wanted to say goodbye, in case it really was for the last time.
As we exited and made entry to board the 4 train to head back into the city, I got a look at the outside of the New Yankee Stadium.
There is no doubt that the new place is going to be great, but things just will not be same. The bleachers, as we know it now, will no longer exist. More luxury boxes will be built. The price of the tickets are going up to where a good portion of people will either be priced out or will have to spend a larger amount than ever.
Times do in fact change. For one night though, they all stayed the same.
It was fun. Just hoping it will stay the same a little while longer.
NEW YORK - You are taking the number 4 train just past 149th Street and Grand Concourse when you hear the voice address announcer say the following:
"The next stop is "161st Street-Yankee Stadium".
You hear that and you know what is coming next. Through the tunnel and into the sunlight (assuming it is not cloudy); you see the old ballpark in The Bronx staring right at you. Only yards away from it, you can sense the excitement that not only you, but the people around you have.
Some make the trek daily. Others have been to it enough to where they are not fazed. And there are those who are visiting the place for the very first time who look at the place in awe.
For me, I have been to The Stadium numerous times not to be fazed. This time it was different. I knew that there was the real possibility that this could be last time I may ever step foot inside Yankee Stadium.
It was my birthday and there was no better present I could be given than to take in a Yankees game on this night. Take all other gifts and ideas and just throw them away. Nothing else was going to top this.
I went on Craigslist early in the morning and within 30 minutes, there was a guy named Victor who had seats out in the right field bleachers for $50 each. Great deal. Mind you, the original face for those seats is $12, but those seats have always been underpriced. Headed down into Times Square around lunch hour to meet him to pick them up and I was set for the night.
Of course, getting there was part of the equation. For some reason, the subway was going unusually slow from 59th Street heading up. Was this Chicago here? I rarely see slow zones in New York, but this was a first. The conductor mentioned there were trains ahead, but the first pitch was minutes away and I had little patience.
My long time college friend Denis and I got to the game in the middle of the second inning. We were not trying to mimic the fans in Los Angeles; at least we had a legitimate excuse.
I looked around the place for a bit and took in the history that was not going to be there any longer. There is sign right behind us that informs not just me but everyone else how many (regular season) games are remaining in the park (on that night - 21). What started at 81 when Opening Night began has now dwindled to a precious few. With the Yankees currently out of the playoff race, those would be the only games left to be played.
My camera was going to work overtime on this night. I was not going to miss anything. What I noticed early was that I was at an angle that was going to affect my picture.
Since I was facing home plate, getting the panoramic shot of the stadium was out of the question. My zoom was causing some shots to come out blurry that brought the anger level up a few notches. But watching Sidney Ponson on mound evading trouble in several innings put a smile back on my face.
Both he and Los Angeles Angels starter Ervin Santana waged a game long duel. Each inning, we all waited and held our breath in the expectation of what we thought would be the eventual Ponson Breakdown, usually making its appearance no later than the fifth inning.
This is what it has come to over the last few years. Optimism has been replaced by pessimism and doubt. Expecting the worse almost all the time.
What have we become, Red Sox fans circa 1919-2004?
However, on this night, it was different. Ponson worked his way out of trouble like a crafty veteran. Bending at times, but never giving in. For seven innings, he dealt shutout baseball to shock and awe of all of us.
Who knew?
A performance like that would be good enough to earn a victory on most nights. Despite the four walks, he had only given up two hits. The problem was that Santana was equally as good, if not more dominant. Blazing fastballs inside and out to overpower Yankee hitter s, and throwing his hard slider and other breaking pitches to make them look foolish at the same time.
Damaso Marte held the fort down in the eighth inning and Santana did the same. It was on to the ninth.
Enter Sandman.
You hear the theme music and the Stadium erupts. Mariano Rivera steps out of the bullpen through the door and slowly makes the jog to the mound.
Cameras flashed everywhere (including my own) trying to capture the moment seeing number 42 with the interlocking "NY" on the cap, wearing white with navy blue pinstripes, no name and just the number on the back, as he makes his way to the pitchers mound.
When he came in, a sense of worry filled my mind. The stats were there to be seen. Of all the runs Rivera had given up during the season (eight), all but two came in games where the Yankees were either tied or trailing. It has to go as the oddest baseball query in this generation. How can a pitcher this great mysteriously struggle in these types of situations.
Mark Teixeira led off the inning with a walk and the crowd and I began to groan. We all knew the stats were in play again. Vladimir Guerrero then followed with a base hit to right field and pinch runner Reggie Willits motored from first to third base. Runners were now on the corners with no one out and the feeling of dread had taken over the Stadium.
On a 1-0 pitch, Torii Hunter took Rivera's pitch back up the middle for a base hit to give the Angels the lead 1-0. The only sounds you could hear were that of the Angels fans that found their way to The Bronx cheering. The rest of us were simply resigned to shaking our heads in disbelief. Rivera had once more struggled and gave a run in a tie game. By count, it has to be the fifth time this has happened this season.
There is something about the Angels to where this more often than not seems to happen. On Thursday, they clubbed the Yankees for three homerun and scored 12 runs. Now tonight, they were on the right side of this duel. Whether it is lucky bounces, great plays or clutch hits, the team with the red Halo on the hat seems to get it against them. For the last seven years, it has happened like this.
Rivera would eventually get through the inning not giving up another run, but the damage had been done. Now the game was in the hands of their closer, Francisco Rodriguez. As I looked around, many denizens choose to either beat traffic or subway congestion and headed for the exit. 35 other times the team had scored two runs or less. Facing their closer and this suddenly unbeatable team, it felt as if the Yankees were down by more than just run.
Alex Rodriguez struck out looking on a changeup for the first out. Jason Giambi (under going a 'stache correction at the plate) flied out to left field for the second. Robinson Cano ended it with a groundout to second base.
Final: Angels 1, Yankees 0
It was not the greatest birthday celebration I could want. Perhaps a little luck would rub off on the team tonight, but Santana, Rodriguez and the Angels took all of that away.
The strange thing was that I was not ready to leave yet. I looked around and knew that this reality of never seeing the place again could exist. I made sure I took some pictures of myself overlooking the field and the scoreboard. Even though the NYPD was ushering all of us to head out, I told one of them that I just wanted to savior the moments just a minute or two longer, which they allowed.
I just wanted to say goodbye, in case it really was for the last time.
As we exited and made entry to board the 4 train to head back into the city, I got a look at the outside of the New Yankee Stadium.
There is no doubt that the new place is going to be great, but things just will not be same. The bleachers, as we know it now, will no longer exist. More luxury boxes will be built. The price of the tickets are going up to where a good portion of people will either be priced out or will have to spend a larger amount than ever.
Times do in fact change. For one night though, they all stayed the same.
It was fun. Just hoping it will stay the same a little while longer.
1 comment:
Every time I read about Yankee Stadium closing, I get a little choked up. Thanks for sharing your experience! I was unable to say goodbye properly, glad you were able to.
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