A Farewell to Yankee Stadium

By Paulie Knep
Love of Sports Correspondent

I was born and raised a Yankee fan.

My father is a Yankee fan. His father was a Yankee fan. My grandparents met in Yankee Stadium.

Every summer since I was a little kid I’ve taken in several Yankees games at the old ballpark in the Bronx, though this season has felt different. It’s the last one in Yankee Stadium and I’m not ready to say goodbye.

It’s difficult to explain why the stadium means so much to me or the excitement I feel when I walk out of the tunnel and my eyes first set site on the legendary field.

Instantaneously, I flash back to my favorite stadium memories: Tino Martinez’s grand slam in Game 1 of the 1998 World Series, Donnie Baseball’s number being retired, President Bush throwing out the first pitch for Game 3 of the 2001 World Series, DiMaggio, Mantle, Ford, Berra, Rizzuto and so many others taking the field on Old Timers Day.

Then there are the magical moments I watched on television: Wade Boggs trotting around the outfield on a horse after the 1996 series, David Cone and David Wells’ perfect games, game-winning home runs in the World Series by Derek Jeter and Scott Brosius, Doc Gooden and Jim Abbott’s no-hitters and the crowd serenading Paul O’Neill during his final game in pinstripes.

I apreciate the fact that the Yankees play in “The House That Ruth Built,” on the same field where Lou Gehrig gave his courageous farewell address, Joe DiMaggio captured the hearts of a nation and Mickey Mantle belted gargantuan home runs from both sides of the plate.

It’s the place where Don Larsen hurled a perfect game in the 1956 World Series, Chris Chambliss blasted the Yankees into the 1976 World Series and Reggie Jackson slugged three home runs in Game 6 of the ‘77 Series. The list goes on and on, and it extends beyond baseball.

Yankee Stadium hosted the two historic fights between Joe Louis and Max Schmeling. Sugar Ray Robinson and Muhammad Ali were two of the many other champions who fought there as well.

Notre Dame’s Knute Rockne delivered his famous “Win one for the Gipper” speech at the old ballpark, which also served as the home field for the New York Giants during their epic matchup against the Baltimore Colts in the 1958 NFL Championship game, often referred to as the greatest football game ever played.

The cultural significance of the stadium has been interwoven with the fabric of my life. I loved listening to my grandfathers reminisce about the great DiMaggio galloping after a ball in centerfield and I cherish knowing that the stories my father relayed to me about Mickey Mantle and Thurman Munson took place on the same field where I’ve watched Derek Jeter create his own legacy.

Tino’s grand slam in the World Series was special because I shared the elation with my brother and father, and watching President Bush throw out the first pitch carried greater significance, because I was standing next to my best friend at the time. On my 16th birthday, my family and I were given a tour of the stadium by then Yankees broadcaster Tom Seaver. As we attended the game that night, Phil Rizzuto wished me a happy birthday on the air.

I met my girlfriend’s father for the first time at a Yankees playoff game, and we bonded over tales of Mantle during a two-hour rain delay. A few years ago, my friends and I had a good laugh when our buddy was thrown out of the stadium for screaming “Foulke you” as Red Sox reliever Keith Foulke took the mound.

The stadium has also served as a sanctuary for me over the years. Regardless of the hardships in my life, when I enter the ballpark I’m whisked away by the site of the perfectly manicured field, the outfield façade, the retired numbers in monument park, the melodic tone of PA announcer Bob Sheppard’s voice, the smells, the ghosts, the memories.

As an angst-ridden teenager, I didn’t see eye-to-eye with my father on many issues, but we always seemed to find peace at Yankee Stadium. I regret that if I have a son one day I won’t be able to share new magical moments with him at “the house that Ruth built,” where my father taught me about baseball, as his father taught him. Sure, I’ll pass on the stories and memories, but it won’t be the same to say, “That happened right across the street.”

The move to a new stadium is especially difficult to swallow because there’s nothing wrong with the current one. The ballpark is in good condition and the Yankees have drawn four million fans each of the past three seasons.

Across town, the Mets are moving to a new stadium as well, and its easy to see why. Shea Stadium is a dump, one of the last remaining cookie-cutter, multi-purpose parks of the 1960s.

Yankee Stadium is a cathedral.

I made my final trip to the grand old ballpark this week, and with a heavy heart, soaked up the sites and sounds of the oasis in the Bronx one last time. As the Yankees recorded the final out of the game, I stood motionless for several minutes. I wasn’t ready to leave.

How do you say goodbye to your favorite place in the world?