It was full-blown baseball nerdiness, but we enjoyed it anyway. It was the kind of thing you’d never figure out unless you lived in our world. And we only did it whenever one of us had a birthday.
My brother Eric, my friend Ron and I had a mutual passion for baseball that far exceeded anything our mid-1980s world had to offer. So we expanded that world on our own. We went to stores and had our T-shirts silkscreened with Yankee uniform numbers and names long before sporting goods stores started selling those shirts. We joined fantasy baseball leagues long before those statistics could be compiled by web sites. We played Wiffle Ball for hours with make-believe lineups made from major-league teams.
And then there was this birthday thing. Instead of saying “Happy 17th, Warren,” my brother and friend would say to me, “Hey, you’re Mickey Rivers this year.” Instead of being 23, I was “Don Mattingly.” And instead of wishing one of them a happy 31st, I’d tell them they’d reached “Dave Winfield.” I guess when you’ve got so many uniform numbers floating around amid your baseball memories, you’d might as well find a use for them. So, during each birthday, we’d connect our years-old to the numbers worn by those pinstriped heroes we used to cheer for every summer night.
And during those years when there were no great Yankee uniform numbers attached to our new age, it was even more fun to try and remember lesser-known players who’d worn those digits. “You’re Bob Shirley,” one of us would say when we’d reached age 29, harkening back to the left-handed reliever of the mid-1980s. Or “Happy birthday, Kevin Maas” when we turned 24, referring to the slugging first baseman who started off his Yankee career like a superstar, then quickly became a much more pedestrian hitter.
I am pretty sure that the woman who would eventually marry me heard some of these conversations, and yet she chose to remain with me. You’d have to ask her why. I guess the important thing to tell you is that as I stand two days shy of 41 years of age, I do not partake in this nonsense anymore. I don’t sit around and think about the ballplayers who have worn the number my aging body will be donning throughout the year. That’s really kids’ stuff, to be honest.
Tom Seaver. Eddie Mathews. Sterling Hitchcock.
OK, so maybe I do think about it a little bit. Just for a minute. Then I move on to other, more mature stuff. Like writing a blog about baseball and life.
Number 41 is not a big Yankee number. There have been somewhat effective pitchers with the number, such as Hitchcock and some guys from my childhood, like Joe Cowley and Shane Rawley. But it’s not a number you’ll see on a pinstriped uniform for sale at Modell’s. Over in Queens, however, Number 41 means an awful lot. Even more than it does in Atlanta, where Eddie Mathews’ number 41 is retired. Mathews was a great player, but he played nearly all of his career in Milwaukee, before the Braves moved south. For the Mets, however, Number 41 represents the only player in team history ever to have his number retired.
They called him “Tom Terrific,” and Tom Seaver lived up to every bit of that nickname. In a 20-year career, Seaver won more than 300 games and became one of the best pitchers of his era. He spent 11 of those years with the Mets, and most New York fans will tell you that the Mets should never have let him go. As a Yankee fan, I always followed Seaver from a distance, except when he showed up as a Yankees broadcaster after his retirement. But when I’d go out on the field to pitch, I’d always hear coaches comparing my delivery to that of Seaver. I had the full windup, the “drop and drive” delivery that saw my right knee scraping the ground and my right foot pushing off the rubber, followed by the overhand delivery with the good follow-through. Just like Seaver.
Of course, that delivery was the only similarity you could find between my pitching style and that of Tom Seaver. Once the ball left my hands, you might compare me to, say, Charlie Brown. But for an average pitcher, I was apparently pretty to watch. A vague reminder of a classic.
So that brings us to age 41 – a little more vintage than I envisioned myself being back in my pitching days. But here I am, Tom Seaver in age. I’m not dropping and driving anymore. Just workin’ for a livin’, raising a couple of kids, and still in love with the cute redhead I met back when I was still pitching and making those corny birthday jokes.
It’s not the kind of thing they retire uniforms for, I guess. But I’ll take it. And as for the growing older bit, why worry? There’s lots to look forward to. After all, I’m only one year away from Mariano Rivera. Three away from Reggie Jackson. And five away from Andy Pettitte.
Plenty of numbers to throw around for a good long while. Baseball nerds unite. And blow out your candles.
Showing posts with label Don Mattingly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Don Mattingly. Show all posts
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Programming Hope (One Sixty-Two: Day 159)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred Fifty-Nine: Brian Matusz, Baltimore Orioles
In the fall of 1984, I learned how to perform basic programming on my Commodore 64 computer. I could craft a program in which users were asked a question, to which they would be asked to type their own response. The program would then give an (A) or (B) answer based on whether or not the user had given the correct response.
For the topic of this program, I chose the 1985 New York Yankees. The fact that I had crafted a computer program about baseball was completely unsurprising to anyone who knew me. But why was I making this program about the following year’s Yankee team? After all, we still had a few more months of ’84 yet to live. The Detroit Tigers had yet to defeat the San Diego Padres handily in the World Series. And Ronald Reagan had yet to defeat Walter Mondale even more handily in the presidential election. Why was this obsessive 13-year-old looking ahead so eagerly?
It was all about the way things were ending in the South Bronx that year; I was excited about the future. The Yankees, who had started miserably that year, finished strong under manager Yogi Berra to the tune of 87 wins. I had seen a lot of young, pinstriped players bloom in the ’84 season. Therefore, my wacky new program asked the user which player he or she thought would start at each position for the Yankees the next year. If you selected the player I agreed with, the program told you so. If I disagreed, it gave you a different answer.
So if you answered the question, “Who do you think will play shortstop for the Yankees next year?” with the answer “Bobby Meacham,” the program responded by telling you that I expected Andre Robertson to start at short instead. If you answered my question about first base with the words “Don Mattingly,” you were greeted with enthusiastic agreement.
Young players like Robertson, Mattingly, Mike Pagliarulo and Joe Cowley had helped the team post a 51-29 record in the season’s second half. Like many kids with “NY” logos on their caps, I was pretty pumped about the year ahead. Most of the other fans could contain their obsession enough to avoid creating Commodore 64 programs about the Yankees. But I guess we all have our passions – and quirks.
This evening, I thought about that autumn of 26 years ago while looking at the standings and noticing how well the Baltimore Orioles have played since Buck Showalter took over as manager. The O’s seemed destined for an utterly miserable season in late July, but the hiring of Showalter on July 29 has given the Maryland faithful a lot of reasons to hope. The former Yankees, Diamondbacks and Rangers manager has steered Baltimore to a 30-22 record over the past two months. Young Orioles pitchers and position players who’ve had the words “potential” stamped on their foreheads for some time have finally started playing quality major-league ball, and they’ve won ballgames as a result. Left-handed pitcher Brian Matusz, for instance, has gone 6-1 with seven quality starts since Showalter took over the reins. A first-round draft pick two years ago, Matusz is the future ace of this club, and he appears ready to fill that role as soon as next season.
So the fans are getting excited in Baltimore again, and Buck Showalter is spoken of glowingly in conversations at Inner Harbor restaurants these days. As for the kids at home, they’ve already started dreaming of a return to the playoffs for the boys in orange and black. I don’t think many of those kids own a Commodore 64, and even if they did I don’t think they’d use it for Orioles starting-lineup quizzes.
But whatever they do, the youngsters who cheer for the Baltimore Orioles have more than a few reasons to think about the spring of 2011. You can’t program a winning season, but you can recognize something good when you see it. Now, Orioles fans, let’s get started – who should Buck start at first base?
Day One Hundred Fifty-Nine: Brian Matusz, Baltimore Orioles
In the fall of 1984, I learned how to perform basic programming on my Commodore 64 computer. I could craft a program in which users were asked a question, to which they would be asked to type their own response. The program would then give an (A) or (B) answer based on whether or not the user had given the correct response.
For the topic of this program, I chose the 1985 New York Yankees. The fact that I had crafted a computer program about baseball was completely unsurprising to anyone who knew me. But why was I making this program about the following year’s Yankee team? After all, we still had a few more months of ’84 yet to live. The Detroit Tigers had yet to defeat the San Diego Padres handily in the World Series. And Ronald Reagan had yet to defeat Walter Mondale even more handily in the presidential election. Why was this obsessive 13-year-old looking ahead so eagerly?
It was all about the way things were ending in the South Bronx that year; I was excited about the future. The Yankees, who had started miserably that year, finished strong under manager Yogi Berra to the tune of 87 wins. I had seen a lot of young, pinstriped players bloom in the ’84 season. Therefore, my wacky new program asked the user which player he or she thought would start at each position for the Yankees the next year. If you selected the player I agreed with, the program told you so. If I disagreed, it gave you a different answer.
So if you answered the question, “Who do you think will play shortstop for the Yankees next year?” with the answer “Bobby Meacham,” the program responded by telling you that I expected Andre Robertson to start at short instead. If you answered my question about first base with the words “Don Mattingly,” you were greeted with enthusiastic agreement.
Young players like Robertson, Mattingly, Mike Pagliarulo and Joe Cowley had helped the team post a 51-29 record in the season’s second half. Like many kids with “NY” logos on their caps, I was pretty pumped about the year ahead. Most of the other fans could contain their obsession enough to avoid creating Commodore 64 programs about the Yankees. But I guess we all have our passions – and quirks.
This evening, I thought about that autumn of 26 years ago while looking at the standings and noticing how well the Baltimore Orioles have played since Buck Showalter took over as manager. The O’s seemed destined for an utterly miserable season in late July, but the hiring of Showalter on July 29 has given the Maryland faithful a lot of reasons to hope. The former Yankees, Diamondbacks and Rangers manager has steered Baltimore to a 30-22 record over the past two months. Young Orioles pitchers and position players who’ve had the words “potential” stamped on their foreheads for some time have finally started playing quality major-league ball, and they’ve won ballgames as a result. Left-handed pitcher Brian Matusz, for instance, has gone 6-1 with seven quality starts since Showalter took over the reins. A first-round draft pick two years ago, Matusz is the future ace of this club, and he appears ready to fill that role as soon as next season.
So the fans are getting excited in Baltimore again, and Buck Showalter is spoken of glowingly in conversations at Inner Harbor restaurants these days. As for the kids at home, they’ve already started dreaming of a return to the playoffs for the boys in orange and black. I don’t think many of those kids own a Commodore 64, and even if they did I don’t think they’d use it for Orioles starting-lineup quizzes.
But whatever they do, the youngsters who cheer for the Baltimore Orioles have more than a few reasons to think about the spring of 2011. You can’t program a winning season, but you can recognize something good when you see it. Now, Orioles fans, let’s get started – who should Buck start at first base?
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Rivalry Royalty
Watching the North Carolina-Duke men’s basketball game last night was a little like watching Yankees-Red Sox, circa 1992. The rivalry was there, sure. The fans were intense, as always. But the talent was not the same.
Eighteen years ago, the Yankees and Red Sox both finished at least 20 games out of first place, both with losing records. That was the last time that neither New York nor Boston finished in the top two in the American League East standings; most years since then, they have both finished in the top two. The last dozen years, in particular, have seen the Yankees and Red Sox bring their storied baseball rivalry to an unprecedented level of excellence. Since 1998, in fact, Boston has won at least 92 games nine times, while New York has done it 10 times.
In the same way, it’s typical this time of year to see both North Carolina and Duke ranked in the top 10, both battling furiously for the Atlantic Coast Conference title and a top seed in the NCAA Tournament. Since 1975, only two seasons have ended without UNC or Duke having won either the ACC’s regular season or tournament titles. The two schools have a combined 32 Final Fours and eight national championships between them.
I’ve been fortunate enough to see the UNC-Duke rivalry up close – first as a student, then as a sportswriter. And I’ve been lucky enough to see the Yankees-Red Sox duel many times from the seats of Yankee Stadium and Fenway Park. They are, without question, the two most impressive rivalries I’ve ever witnessed in sports. The histories of the teams, the settings for their games, and the intensities of their fan bases all play a role in this. But the most important piece to these great rivalries is simple: It’s the quality that the teams produce, year after year.
You can say you’re a Red Sox fan and you hate the Yankees. But the reality is, a Boston championship is indescribably sweeter if it involves a hard-fought win over New York (see 2004). You can say that God loves the Tar Heels so much He made the sky Carolina blue, and that the Blue Devils truly belong in hell. But you know, deep down, that no UNC title is worth winning without some dramatic wins against Duke (see 2009).
These two rivalries are as revered as they are because of the high standards that all four clubs aspire to year after year, and the astounding levels of success that all four have achieved. You don’t need to be the champion every year to still be the team to beat. The Tar Heels, Blue Devils, Yankees and Red Sox have achieved so much success over the years that the best measuring stick for their progress has been the games they play against their heated rivals. It’s not just bragging rights they want in Chapel Hill, Durham, the Bronx and Kenmore Square; it’s an idea of just how good they are.
That’s why last night’s UNC-Duke game was such a letdown. Sure, this year’s Duke Blue Devils are a top-10 team, and they can hit three-pointers from anywhere on the court. But they’re not a complete team, and they don’t look like a real contender for an NCAA title. Duke may hold on and claim the ACC title, but that has more to do with a weak ACC conference this year than with the Blue Devils’ prowess. North Carolina, just 10 months removed from its fifth national title, lost four starters to the NBA and doesn’t have enough experience to compete at its usual level this year. This year’s Tar Heels are scrambling just to keep their record above .500.
And so, as the veteran Blue Devils fended off the young Tar Heels last night in Chapel Hill, I was reminded of how dreary those early-90s matchups were between the Yanks and the Sox. Sure, Boston still had Roger Clemens and Wade Boggs, while New York had a veteran Don Mattingly and a young Bernie Williams. But the teams didn’t have much sizzle to them, and therefore the head-to-heads didn’t carry the weight that they so often had and would in the years to come. (Even the one game with sizzle – Clemens pitching on a Saturday afternoon in the Bronx – lost its luster when I got my friend lost on the way there, and we ended up in Bogota, N.J. Bogota, by the way, just happens to be the hometown of former UNC sixth-man Pat Sullivan.)
North Carolina, at 2-7 in the ACC this year, is truly down on the canvas for once. While the rest of the conference gloats at the fall of the mighty, America’s best college rivalry suffers. The standards have been lowered, and who really likes it when your top rival is a punching bag?
Before we get too worried, though, let’s take a look forward. This year’s number-one high school recruit, 6-foot-8 forward Harrison Barnes from Iowa, recently chose UNC over Duke, joining two other nationally-touted recruits already on their way to Chapel Hill. And so the rivalry breathes on, and the balance of power shifts again.
As for baseball, the Yankees and Red Sox have carefully improved their teams again this off-season, spending their money on pitching and defense to add to their already-impressive batting lineups. There will be no letdown in that rivalry in 2010, and both teams will be favorites to make the playoffs once more.
I will root for the Yankees whenever they play the Red Sox. And while I won’t actually root for the Red Sox in their games against other teams, I won’t be too upset if August rolls around and the standings show New York and Boston tied for first place. It may cause some butterflies in the stomach, but you know the saying: Nothing that’s worth having comes easy.
Eighteen years ago, the Yankees and Red Sox both finished at least 20 games out of first place, both with losing records. That was the last time that neither New York nor Boston finished in the top two in the American League East standings; most years since then, they have both finished in the top two. The last dozen years, in particular, have seen the Yankees and Red Sox bring their storied baseball rivalry to an unprecedented level of excellence. Since 1998, in fact, Boston has won at least 92 games nine times, while New York has done it 10 times.
In the same way, it’s typical this time of year to see both North Carolina and Duke ranked in the top 10, both battling furiously for the Atlantic Coast Conference title and a top seed in the NCAA Tournament. Since 1975, only two seasons have ended without UNC or Duke having won either the ACC’s regular season or tournament titles. The two schools have a combined 32 Final Fours and eight national championships between them.
I’ve been fortunate enough to see the UNC-Duke rivalry up close – first as a student, then as a sportswriter. And I’ve been lucky enough to see the Yankees-Red Sox duel many times from the seats of Yankee Stadium and Fenway Park. They are, without question, the two most impressive rivalries I’ve ever witnessed in sports. The histories of the teams, the settings for their games, and the intensities of their fan bases all play a role in this. But the most important piece to these great rivalries is simple: It’s the quality that the teams produce, year after year.
You can say you’re a Red Sox fan and you hate the Yankees. But the reality is, a Boston championship is indescribably sweeter if it involves a hard-fought win over New York (see 2004). You can say that God loves the Tar Heels so much He made the sky Carolina blue, and that the Blue Devils truly belong in hell. But you know, deep down, that no UNC title is worth winning without some dramatic wins against Duke (see 2009).
These two rivalries are as revered as they are because of the high standards that all four clubs aspire to year after year, and the astounding levels of success that all four have achieved. You don’t need to be the champion every year to still be the team to beat. The Tar Heels, Blue Devils, Yankees and Red Sox have achieved so much success over the years that the best measuring stick for their progress has been the games they play against their heated rivals. It’s not just bragging rights they want in Chapel Hill, Durham, the Bronx and Kenmore Square; it’s an idea of just how good they are.
That’s why last night’s UNC-Duke game was such a letdown. Sure, this year’s Duke Blue Devils are a top-10 team, and they can hit three-pointers from anywhere on the court. But they’re not a complete team, and they don’t look like a real contender for an NCAA title. Duke may hold on and claim the ACC title, but that has more to do with a weak ACC conference this year than with the Blue Devils’ prowess. North Carolina, just 10 months removed from its fifth national title, lost four starters to the NBA and doesn’t have enough experience to compete at its usual level this year. This year’s Tar Heels are scrambling just to keep their record above .500.
And so, as the veteran Blue Devils fended off the young Tar Heels last night in Chapel Hill, I was reminded of how dreary those early-90s matchups were between the Yanks and the Sox. Sure, Boston still had Roger Clemens and Wade Boggs, while New York had a veteran Don Mattingly and a young Bernie Williams. But the teams didn’t have much sizzle to them, and therefore the head-to-heads didn’t carry the weight that they so often had and would in the years to come. (Even the one game with sizzle – Clemens pitching on a Saturday afternoon in the Bronx – lost its luster when I got my friend lost on the way there, and we ended up in Bogota, N.J. Bogota, by the way, just happens to be the hometown of former UNC sixth-man Pat Sullivan.)
North Carolina, at 2-7 in the ACC this year, is truly down on the canvas for once. While the rest of the conference gloats at the fall of the mighty, America’s best college rivalry suffers. The standards have been lowered, and who really likes it when your top rival is a punching bag?
Before we get too worried, though, let’s take a look forward. This year’s number-one high school recruit, 6-foot-8 forward Harrison Barnes from Iowa, recently chose UNC over Duke, joining two other nationally-touted recruits already on their way to Chapel Hill. And so the rivalry breathes on, and the balance of power shifts again.
As for baseball, the Yankees and Red Sox have carefully improved their teams again this off-season, spending their money on pitching and defense to add to their already-impressive batting lineups. There will be no letdown in that rivalry in 2010, and both teams will be favorites to make the playoffs once more.
I will root for the Yankees whenever they play the Red Sox. And while I won’t actually root for the Red Sox in their games against other teams, I won’t be too upset if August rolls around and the standings show New York and Boston tied for first place. It may cause some butterflies in the stomach, but you know the saying: Nothing that’s worth having comes easy.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Ballparks and Brothers
I’ve been to Yankee Stadium dozens of times over the past 31 years. Ever since my first game – Bat Day in 1977, when I was handed a wooden Adirondack with the name “Thurman Munson” engraved on the barrel – I have felt so alive every time I’ve visited this ballpark. It is, without question, the greatest arena for sports that I have ever experienced. I have stood in the upper deck during playoff games and felt the electric pulse of 55,000 trying to will the Yankees to victory, the entire level shaking beneath our feet. I’ve sat in the lower deck during the lean years, watching Dave Winfield, Don Mattingly and Mike Pagliarulo lace frozen ropes into the gap before 20,000 intensely faithful fans. I’ve walked reverently through Monument Park, roared blissfully with the bleacher creatures, and stood on the field singing along with Billy Joel.
Wrigley Field, Fenway Park and Camden Yards are more aesthetically beautiful than Yankee Stadium ever was. But the beauty of this ballpark in the Bronx goes beyond anything the eye can see. The magic of Yankee Stadium rests in the way this place feels, and the passion its fans provide. It’s the kind of atmosphere that gives you 50,000 people roaring deliriously for a former Yankee who’s just lost his job with another team, as took place a few days ago during Old-Timer’s Day. As Willie Randolph jogged onto the field to wave his cap, he watched an entire stadium stand to its feet to welcome him home and nearly bring him to tears. Yankee fans often realize what a player needs before the player knows it himself, and that is where the mystique and aura lie. When the playoffs begin, Yankee fans know that they need to take their job of cheering to another level, and they do; it is for this reason that they love players like Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera and Andy Pettitte so much, for these three have also known how to find that extra level of intensity come October.
It’s difficult to imagine this place closing for business in a few weeks. But it will, and it is with this in mind that I checked out the prices on StubHub recently, to see if there was a chance I could say goodbye myself. I found ticket prices well into the hundreds, even thousands of dollars, for the remaining games played in the stadium this year. I guess the old place has earned this kind of price tag. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come next year in the new park.
For now, though, I’ve got plenty of memories of my own moments in the big park: Ken Griffey Sr. soaring over the seats in left field to take a home run away from the Red Sox; Jerry Mumphrey smashing an upper-deck, walk-off home run against the Angels before those things were ever called “walk-offs”; Mattingly roping a double into the right-field corner to wrest the league batting title away from Winfield on the season’s last day; Ron Guidry striking out a dozen or so on Old-Timers’ Day, shortly before he himself became a retiree; Paul O’Neill drilling home runs on his way to a batting title; David Wells baffling the Rangers, then Indians, in the playoffs en route to the 125-win season of 1998; and the home crowd standing for Cal Ripken on one of his last games in the Bronx.
Much more than the players, though, I will remember the people I sat with at these games. My mom, my dad, my grandparents, best friends, college friends, teaching colleagues, fellow journalists. I’ll remember the games with my wife, the two of us holding hands as she let me fill her ears with useless stats. I’ll remember the game with my oldest daughter, her eyes opening wide as she looked down on the vast field of green. And most of all, I’ll remember the games I attended with my brother. My passion for this game leads me always to him, to our days playing, watching, and talking about this game. We have laughed, debated, high-fived and, yes, even argued in this ballpark. We’ve talked about nearly every aspect of our lives in the hours spent watching ballgames here. Add it all up and we’ve lived several days in this park, eating pretzels and hot dogs side by side in the upper deck. As we’ve grown older, the stadium has helped provide a place and time for making each other a priority, even when work and family demands are intense.
We’ll meet up for games in the new park, I’m sure. But just as the beautiful home our parents retired to doesn’t feel like the little ranch we grew up in, the new Yankee Stadium won’t feel quite like home, either. But we’ll have to adjust. Life is like that. In the end, it’ll be fine – so long as we’re there together.
Wrigley Field, Fenway Park and Camden Yards are more aesthetically beautiful than Yankee Stadium ever was. But the beauty of this ballpark in the Bronx goes beyond anything the eye can see. The magic of Yankee Stadium rests in the way this place feels, and the passion its fans provide. It’s the kind of atmosphere that gives you 50,000 people roaring deliriously for a former Yankee who’s just lost his job with another team, as took place a few days ago during Old-Timer’s Day. As Willie Randolph jogged onto the field to wave his cap, he watched an entire stadium stand to its feet to welcome him home and nearly bring him to tears. Yankee fans often realize what a player needs before the player knows it himself, and that is where the mystique and aura lie. When the playoffs begin, Yankee fans know that they need to take their job of cheering to another level, and they do; it is for this reason that they love players like Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera and Andy Pettitte so much, for these three have also known how to find that extra level of intensity come October.
It’s difficult to imagine this place closing for business in a few weeks. But it will, and it is with this in mind that I checked out the prices on StubHub recently, to see if there was a chance I could say goodbye myself. I found ticket prices well into the hundreds, even thousands of dollars, for the remaining games played in the stadium this year. I guess the old place has earned this kind of price tag. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come next year in the new park.
For now, though, I’ve got plenty of memories of my own moments in the big park: Ken Griffey Sr. soaring over the seats in left field to take a home run away from the Red Sox; Jerry Mumphrey smashing an upper-deck, walk-off home run against the Angels before those things were ever called “walk-offs”; Mattingly roping a double into the right-field corner to wrest the league batting title away from Winfield on the season’s last day; Ron Guidry striking out a dozen or so on Old-Timers’ Day, shortly before he himself became a retiree; Paul O’Neill drilling home runs on his way to a batting title; David Wells baffling the Rangers, then Indians, in the playoffs en route to the 125-win season of 1998; and the home crowd standing for Cal Ripken on one of his last games in the Bronx.
Much more than the players, though, I will remember the people I sat with at these games. My mom, my dad, my grandparents, best friends, college friends, teaching colleagues, fellow journalists. I’ll remember the games with my wife, the two of us holding hands as she let me fill her ears with useless stats. I’ll remember the game with my oldest daughter, her eyes opening wide as she looked down on the vast field of green. And most of all, I’ll remember the games I attended with my brother. My passion for this game leads me always to him, to our days playing, watching, and talking about this game. We have laughed, debated, high-fived and, yes, even argued in this ballpark. We’ve talked about nearly every aspect of our lives in the hours spent watching ballgames here. Add it all up and we’ve lived several days in this park, eating pretzels and hot dogs side by side in the upper deck. As we’ve grown older, the stadium has helped provide a place and time for making each other a priority, even when work and family demands are intense.
We’ll meet up for games in the new park, I’m sure. But just as the beautiful home our parents retired to doesn’t feel like the little ranch we grew up in, the new Yankee Stadium won’t feel quite like home, either. But we’ll have to adjust. Life is like that. In the end, it’ll be fine – so long as we’re there together.
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