Out With The Old by Barbara Quinn

I spent a pleasant afternoon heading down to the Bronx for a tour of the old Yankee Stadium. The Stadium had its last official game in Sept. 2008, but they’ve continued offering tours of the grand old place. Luckily, they opened up some new tour dates and I was able to score four tickets. So off I went with my husband, son, and son’s brother-in-law to see the place before they begin dismantling it and selling off whatever they can.

The tour took us into the Press Box where we were able to sit and see the game the way the press does, from right above home plate. Then we wandered around in Monument Park visiting the plaques of the honored players and greats who have spent time at the stadium. We walked on the warning track out into the outfield, something they never allow fans to do. What a different perspective you get from center field. That ball really does get hit far! And the wall that you see the players crash into may be padded now, but it’s ridiculously hard. (Yeah, we all tried it out.) After that we went into the players dugout where we sat on the bench. Finally, we landed in the clubhouse, the inner sanctum of the sport, the place you always see them shaking and exploding champagne, the place the players store their things. Each player has an area which is more of a big cubbie than a locker. Former Captain Thurman Munson’s area remains hauntingly empty ever since he died in a tragic plane crash in 1979.

Tattered Yankee Stadium definitely has seen better days and I’m sure the new stadium which we walked by, and which is almost complete, will be terrific, shiny and new. But there’s something sad about leaving behind all the history that’s been made at the old stadium, not just in baseball. Jou Louis slugged it out with Max Schmeling there, Ali also fought at the stadium. It’s seen three popes, Billy Graham and countless concerts.

I’m glad that they are going to keep the old field for use by local kids. But, oh, it was hard to take that last look at the stadium and know that I’ll never see it again. I remind myself that life is change. I’m ready to embrace the new stadium this spring. The golden letters are already emblazoned on the front of the new structure. I’m not sure if it will ever have the same feel as the old House That Ruth Built, but I’ll be there cheering and remembering, and also watching them make new history, and that too is something for which I am grateful.

The Yanks are Coming by Barbara Quinn

Since I was a kid I’ve been watching the NY Yankees. I was born in the Bronx, and my family lived there for many years, so it was natural we were all Yankees fans. My mother is 87 and still follows the team. We chat about their ups and downs, their lack of pitching, their latest injuries. They win. They lose. Each season has the same rhythm. We go to the games in spring and freeze. Then we swelter in the summer.

Baking in the bleachers, the Bleacher Creatures hold roll-call at the beginning of the game. They shout each player’s name until he lifts a glove in response. When they’re done, they salute the box seats with cries of, “Box seats suck.” Frying Pan Freddie makes the rounds allowing fans to smack his lucky pan with a spoon. Out in the monuments section the plaques of the greats gleam in the sun.

I know the Yanks are probably hated more than loved, hated more than any other team in the history of baseball. They’ve squashed the hopes of so many fans and teams. But no one can deny their incredible success: 26 World Championships, thirty-nine American League Pennants. No wonder baseball fans in many cities flock to the games. Not only to see them lose, but to see the future hall-of-famers. Watching Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez in batting practice is as much fun as the game. The high arc of a well-hit ball, as it makes its way up into the sky, and then back down again, is artistic. Seeing a new pitcher like Joba Chamberlain is also exciting.

2008 is the final year in the old Yankee Stadium. The new stadium is rising across the way. It’s a bittersweet time for diehard Yankees fans like me. But I’m not complaining. As the guy from Saturday Night Live used to say: “Baseball’s been berry, berry good to me!” And so have the Yankees!