Pride, Power, and Pinstripes: What Yankee Stadium Means To Me

I can still remember the first time I entered that stadium.  I was still only a young boy, and couldn’t possibly have been more excited to see my first big league game.  I grew up around the Yankees.  Between living in the tri-state area, the tales on the playground, and the history passed down by fanatic uncles, Yankee baseball was almost a way of life.  Sure, I’d watched the Yankees on TV for years.  From the time I left the womb, the Yankees were always on television around me.  I couldn’t help but feel the mystique and aura of the stadium coming through my TV screen.

But this was different.  It was unique.  This wasn’t Yankee baseball as I’d known it my entire life.  There was something special about this place.  Nuzzled in the middle of the Bronx, somewhere on the corner of River Ave and 161^stStreet lay the greatest cathedral known to man, and I was about to experience it.  I’ll never forget the first time I entered through those magical gates.  I strolled through as if it were completely natural, like it had been my home for years.  The excitement had to be evident on my face, as my jaw was hanging low and my eyes wandered around the narrow walkways decades old.  This stadium was different than any other I’d ever experienced.  Sure, the smell of hotdogs was the same, and the souvenir sodas ran about the same size.  But the energy of the stadium was like nothing I’d ever experienced.  Perhaps it was the buzz of an early April game, and the excitement of a new beginning.  Perhaps it was the hype surrounding the newest free agent acquisition, or the pitching performance of the night before.  It could have even been that the rival Boston Red Sox were in town.  I, on the other hand, believe it was something quite different.  The energy of the stadium wasn’t due to performance or excitement.  It was due to the history and pride of this great ballpark.  It was about the generations of legends who occupied that stadium for years—from Ruth and Gehrig, through DiMaggio, Mantle, Berra, Rizzuto, and Mattingly; up to the current mainstay of names like Jeter, Williams, and Rivera.  It was due to the pride and tradition of the Yankees that started with ownership and was carried down through players and fans alike.  This was Yankee Stadium.

I’ll never forget the first time my eyes saw that field.  It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.  The second I stepped foot into that tunnel and caught a glimpse of the blue sky and the top of the grandstand, the hair on my neck stood right up.  A chill shot right down my spine.  It was beautiful.  Sure, this stadium came through my television screen 81 times a year, but it was so different in person.  It was bigger and brighter.  The grass was greener.  The fans were real.  Despite the awe, I felt at home.

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