Tonight I said goodbye to an old friend.

I grew up with Yankee Stadium.  My mom and dad took me to my first game there around 1965, and I can remember the vastness, the history, and the ambience, even though the Yankees were in last place at the time.  It didn’t matter.

The history, the memories…. to think I was looking at the same field where The Babe played right, Gehrig stood telling us how lucky he was as he was dying from ALS, where Mickey patrolled center field and where Thurman defended home plate.  I was just in awe every time I went into the place.

That continued into my adult years, where I watched the championship teams of the late 90’s and 2000, when making it to the playoffs and the World Series was almost a given.  In stark contrast to my childhood when the Yankees finished last or almost last every year, this was heaven.  This was how it was supposed to be.  I finally got a sense of what winning a Championship was like at Yankee Stadium.

And now, tonight, it’s time to say goodbye.  The last game, the final time.  I am enveloped with a sadness that surprises me.  It’s tough to say goodbye to an old friend for the last time.

But across the street, a new Stadium has arisen, promising to be the biggest and best cathedral in sports, much like its older counterpart.  I am excited to go, to watch a game with the feel and look of the old stadium (prior to the renovation in the 70’s), and I’m sure that it, too will provide it’s share of memorable moments.

But it won’t be without a touch of melancholy and sadness, looking over to the place where home plate once stood, the hallowed ground.

It’s time to say goodbye, but not forget.

Good bye, old friend.

September 20, 2008, Cresskill, NJ

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