I've been a Yankees fan for a really long time. I'm not saying exactly how old this photo is, but the uniform is number 7, and the Caddy in the right rear looks to be a late 50's, early 60's model. It is pretty obvious I didn't just hop on the bandwagon. My first game was in '61, and the Chairman of the Board (if you think that's Frank Sinatra, stop reading now) was pitching for the Yankees against the hated Red Sox. That game set the tone for the rest of my life as a sports fan. I walked through the cold tunnels, and could peek down at the field. But when I first went through the entranceway that lead to our seats, I was overwhelmed. The grass was the greenest I had ever seen. More green than any crayon in my 64 count box of Crayolas. Our TV at home had been a black and white set, and I never even thought about how overwhelmingly green the Stadium grass could be.
As for the game itself, I remember a bunch of Yankees homers. I'm not sure who hit them, but I'm pretty sure Maris and /or The Mick belted at least one. And when it was all said and done, I remember leaving the Staium, and looking back at the scoreboard once more to see the final tally: NY 13 Boston 2.
Life was good. It was as it should be. Even today, I would rather see the Yankees win 13-2, than win 3-2. I thoroughly enjoy when they pound the snot out of the other team.
Now fast forward to today, 46 years later. Life kicks me in the 'nads rather regularly it seems.
But I still sit and watch the Yankees, my team, and feel somehow transported to a happier time and place. A-Rod makes what the entire team made back in '61. What am I saying? He makes about 10 times what the entire team made then. But it's not about the money. It's about the game. I don't remember a lot about what my Father ever bought me or said to me when I was a kid, but I remember that day when I went to see my first ball game at Yankees Stadium like it was yesterday.
Take a trip out to the ballyard today. And bring a kid. He or she may remember it, and you, forever.
0 comments:
Post a Comment