My Yankee Afternoon

This past Sunday, my husband and I hopped on the "D" train uptown to Yankee Stadium. It was a bitterly cold afternoon in the historic stadium where only 75 more regular season games remained. I could see that many of the die hard Yankee fans were a bit overwhelmed when Yogi Berra started the "countdown to close" clock. While I understood the importance of this special place for New Yorkers, I was too cold to be sentimental. The bits of peanut shell that rained down on me throughout the game didn't help either.

Perhaps I'm too soft for New York baseball. I grew up in a small town in Virginia where the big baseball games were hosted by the department of recreation. Then one year, the Phillies franchise planted a minor league team in our sleepy community. My dad secured season tickets the first year and though we only attended a few games, I remember how simple it was to drive up, park, and enjoy reasonably priced snack foods. To my recollection there was more socializing going on at these events than anything else. God forbid anyone "boo" too hard. These outings were about family fun, not heckling.

Our New York baseball experience started with a fierce subway ride with thousands of other Yankee fans. One would have expected to see comradery among the jersey wearing clans who entered the train, but for the most part typical subway etiquette prevailed. There was much pushing, eye rolling and angry ranting. (Sadly, I did take part in this behavior. I guess I'm a product of my environment.) At the 161st street stop, we all tumbled out of the train. Whoa to the children or elderly who may have been in the crowd. This was not a place for the weak or feeble.

After the hurried march to the stadium, we climbed to the tip top level to our seats. I won't say that we would have a better view of the game on our television at home because that is obvious. We relied on the tired PA system to stay abreast of the inning highlights and player information. Just as the game picked up steam, my husband trekked down to the concession stand to purchase some refreshments. Two innings and $30 later, he returned with two sad, but tasty hot dogs, a cup of cheese fries, and a large drink with no lid. It didn't take long for the peanut shells scattered over the floor of the stadium to drift into our beloved Coke. Moments after we discovered the litter in our beverage, the Coke met with a most horrid fate - it toppled over onto my shoes and the floor around our seats. Gravity caused the spill to impact fans at least three rows below. Our unquenched thirst and the nasty looks we received from our neighbors created a genuinely unpleasant environment.

At the top of the 8th, we called it quits and headed back to the train. It was just too cold for us and I feared I'd become blind if another peanut shell hit me in the eye. As we rushed out to catch the train, I said my good-bye to old Yankee Stadium. After my day, I figured I'd wait until the new facility opened before I support the home team in person. To the die hard, peanut eating, trash talking Yankee fans who will fill the stadium this year...best wishes. I'll be watching from home.