Before I start my trip down memory lane, let's put to rest the fallacy that the soon-to-be-demolished edifice currently known as Yankee Stadium is the famed "House That Ruth Built," or that it's been around for 85 years. The only things the original Stadium has in common with the current one is that they both stand on the same spot and baseball has been played in both of them. Seeing pictures of the original Stadium next to the '70s-era remodel, both outside and in, put lie to the fact that they're the same ballpark. Even the dimensions of the field are vastly different; the short right field porch was lengthened by almost 20 feet, while the legendary left-center wasteland known as "Death Valley" has been moved in by over 70 feet. For crying out loud, the plaques in Monument Park used to be on the field! Don't tell me this is the same stadium.
That said, the current incarnation of The House That Steinbrenner Built is now in its 33rd and final season. Having attended Yankees games for 32 of those 33 years, I've built up quite a storehouse of memories.
Truth be told, the ol' ballpark was getting to be kind of a dump. Disgusting bathrooms, dingy walkways, peeling paint, leaky pipes ... the ol' gal is definitely showing her age. But I always felt like it was my ballpark. It's still a magical moment for me when the 4 train comes out of the tunnel approaching 161st St. and River Ave. and you see The Stadium in all its glory and the adrenalin starts to pump. Or going from those dingy, endless walkways and entering that gorgeous vista of blue sky and red dirt and impossibly green grass. And hell, run down as Yankee Stadium is, it's still a lot nicer than Shea.
My dad took me to my first Yankees game, when I was not quite eight years old. I looked it up online and found out that it was May 28, 1977, a chilly, drizzly Sunday. The Yankees, with a young Ron Guidry on the mound, got smoked, 9-4. The pitcher for the visiting Chicago White Sox that day, Francisco Barrios, would be dead five years later in a drug-related killing.
It was Jacket Day at the Stadium, and I got a cool navy blue Yankees rain jacket. It was way too big for me, so I put it in my closet and waited to grow into it. Of course, I totally forgot about it, and when I next tried it on, I was 14 and it was too small for me. There's definitely a metaphor in there someplace.
Since then, I must have seen about 150 games at the Stadium -- almost two full seasons of home games.
I wasn't there when Reggie Jackson jacked three homers against the Dodgers in the World Series, but I've seen him launch a few shots in person -- as well as homers by Dave Winfield, Alex Rodriguez, Paul O'Neill, Don Mattingly, and personal faves like Steve Balboni and Roberto Kelly.
I didn't see David Wells' or David Cone's perfect games, but I did see Cleveland's Bartolo Colon toss a one-hitter in a pitching duel with Roger Clemens that Colon won, 2-0.
I was there the night Chuck Knoblauch made three errors in a game before he was removed by Joe Torre. I later read that Knoblauch nearly quit baseball that night.
I was there when Mike Cameron drove in 8 runs for Seattle against the Bombers -- and he did it while drunk. Mickey Mantle would be proud.
I was there for Tommy John's first game as a Yankee, which he won. I was there when Dave Kingman, during his brief tenure as a Bronx Bomber, hit a ball that, I swear, went completely out of the Stadium -- only it was a foul ball that went backwards. I was there for Catfish Hunter Day in '79. I was there for perhaps the most boring World Series game ever played, Game 1 in 2003, when the Yanks were still coming down from the thrill of beating the Red Sox for the pennant two days earlier.
I've seen the greatest Yankees team ever assembled -- the '98 juggernaut that won 125 games. And I've seen the worst Yankees team in history, the 1990 crew that went 67-95. I've sat right behind home plate and in the very last row of the upper deck of right field. I've seen sellouts and crowds so sparse that the guards wouldn't even let you past the loge section because they didn't want to bother with having to clean the upper deck.
My dad stopped going to games with me in the mid '80s. The Yanks were in the midst of their long fallow period, and he simply lost interest in baseball. So I started going with my high school friends. But I convinced him to come back for one last game a few weeks ago, to complete the circle, as it were.
We were in the upper deck, not in the main section over the visiting dugout, which was our regular spot back when tickets could be had for less than the price of a used car. And of course the names and faces had changed.
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