Like you said before, it's hard for me to care when most Yankee fans don't even care that they are destroying a huge piece of their history and a piece of baseball history.
You can tell there are Yankee fans out there that are jealous that the Red Sox get to keep their old time gem with the history thats father & son have been going to since 1912. I see some Yankee fans now are pushing that the Red Sox should get a new stadium for more revenue and yada yada...My question to them is always you do you care and why do you want your biggest rival to get more money? And usually they never have an answer back. They're jealous. As they should be.
Last edited by GreekGuy87; 06-17-2008 at 05:09 AM.
I'm a Yankee fan and I want Yankee Stadium to be demolished. If they're not going to play games in it, nobody else should.
Viva New Yankee Stadium!
The finality of it is setting in after I caught a spot about this on CNN this morning. I'll try not to ramble and take too much of your space and time...and I really do apologize in advance if I can't live up to that promise, entirely. I'm just feeling kinda hurt (that wistful hurt that I can't quite wrap my mind around, so it's hanging on until its good and ready to go). So I tried to find somewhere I could spill for a bit...where it'd be relevant and maybe even okay to get blue in the face of this inevitability
I was born, raised and still presently live in Phoenix, Arizona. I've never even been to Yankee Stadium -- never experienced that feeling, or known what it must feel like to walk through the turnstile for the first time. But the surreality of Yankee Stadium and everything it has silently watched, inspired and quite literally stands (very tall) for...well it's spanned 2500 miles, for me, sight unseen. I think that speaks something for the expanse of its iconic allure. It's sandwiched right in there among everything I've ever known. I am an American. I live in a country that has the Sunset Strip, the Rocky Mountains, Vermont maple syrup, Kansas City BBQ, Delta blues, Cape Canaveral...and Yankee Stadium.
And I really don't think I'm alone on that.
"The more things change, the more they stay the same..." I can't help but wonder why they couldn't they afford that to Yankee Stadium, warts and all? Nothing will be the same, though. Yankee Stadium will be razed to the ground and become the new locale for several parks and public facilities. I'm a fan of parks and I have a healthy appreciation for the value of public recreation...don't get me wrong. But isn't the historic value worth something? (not the dollars and cents kind of worth, I mean).
Naivete Warning: I admit I am thoroughly clueless about the geography around Yankee Stadium aside from some grainy .pdf shots from the internet...so I apologize if my next thoughts seem trite or unrealistic -- and I'm pretty sure they will. I've gotta be oversimplifying at least a dozen angles on this. But, I heard some ideas and they sounded like really good ones...ideas espousing both change and preservation. Conversion of the vast parking lots to municipal parks while the field, concourse and dugouts remain intact. The dugouts for museums, the field for...well, hell -- THE FIELD...and so on. These things sound cost-effective, innovative, sufficiently revenue-generating (and thereby self-funding) and...most importantly...reverent. Reverent to the giant that has seen a nation through tumultuous, crushing and exhiliarating changes. That giant housed the World Series in the aftermath of the crushing blow to our country on 9/11...when Derek Jeter became the first-ever "Mr. November" because of the break in games after 9/11. This isn't just "ancient history" or a nostalgic relic that has outlived its legendary status -- whether a Yankees fan or foe...this is we, us, NOW.
(and, yes, I clearly remember the irony that they were playing the Arizona Diamondbacks in that particular World Series -- I freely admit, I was ripped right down the middle...but, in the end -- when the rubber met the road -- yes, I sat in my Arizona living room with my old and tattered, nobody-would-ever-buy-want-or-love-these-old-things-like-I-do baseball card collection spread out on the coffee table, screaming for the Yanks...it's pure speculation, however, that I...a 38 year-old wife and mother of three...was jumping up and down on the couch..."deny, deny, deny")
That giant called Yankee Stadium stands as a tangible, solid piece of proof in our ability to stand toe-to-toe with adversity, diversity and terror, stare it in the face and yell "BATTER UP!" Hell, some of the most colorful metaphors in our language were barked into creation from the bottom deck in the bottom of the ninth.
And, yeah...I know its time has come. And gone. Damn it. I understand that, when the big wheels start turning, the little wheels can squeak for all the grease they want to squeak for...but it ain't gonna happen.
%#@$!!!!!! (one of those bottom deck, bottom ninth shouts).
Americans endured a world at war...twice. And countless wars and battles...overt, covert, cold ones, hot ones and ones silently simmering...ever since. Through it all, these people carried the memories of their sons and daughters who drew their last breath serving this country into that ballpark with them at some point to let "The Boys of Summer", in turn, carry them to a different, less excruciating, place for awhile. From that to this, we've arrived at a place where silicon chips, hardly viewable with the naked eye, now carry all of us to places we could've never envisioned with even the most uninhibited of imaginations...even bringing some random Arizona chick who has never laid in-person eyes on that inimitable giant inside to crash the party for a little while to lay down a few Sunday thoughts from an aching heart.
Sometimes, though, I think those tiny silicon things have enabled us in losing sight of these giant ones (sigh)
Americans...as rough and ruddy as we are, the cultural mongrels we've become in this Great Melting Pot, we've survived. We've worn the yoke of hunger, loss, fear and failure -- we've shuddered, bent and bleeding. We've been broken down, but then we broke free...to go watch them break records. We came to watch some baseball.
And...regardless of what the scoreboard said at the end of the day, we all won.
So how does a symbol of all those things not depart in a slow, painful and lingering way, despite the actual demolition schedule? I know I'll be feeling it for awhile. A long while...I already know it, and it won't be a matter of self-fulfilling prophecy. It'll be true and genuine when I feel that pang some future Sunday afternoon as I tell my grandchildren about this place that used to be.
"No, no kids -- there was actually a Yankee Stadium BEFORE this one. Yep, that's right...and the first one was legendary..."
For them, I'm going to do my best in the short amount of time left to be able to go on and tell about the time I saw it "back in 2008, right before it was gone...". Facing one hell of a trial schedule over the next five months, my weeks are about to hit the 70, maybe 80-hour range. That leaves me with about one weekend and one "Haaaaaahahahaaaa...you want to do WHAT?!" vacation account that's going to squeak like those wheels I spoke about earlier. But I need to. For my grandchildren, I'll have some meat and potatoes to bring to the story about that giant -- something more than stale, dry facts from something we read or heard. So, for one startlingly-fast weekend, my first trip to New York...my first and last game in Yankees Stadium...I'm going to do exactly that. For them.
I couldn't possibly care less where the seat's at or who's playing. I'll have two days and one purpose....to sit down and close my eyes for a moment while my other senses get a chance at soaking it all up, too. Copious photographs of me, then my husband, then...hopefully, with the help of the person who finds him/her-self next to two hasty, nostalgic tourists...a picture of both of us, together.
Inside Yankee Stadium.
I'll grab as many souvenirs as I can grab (right down to "My God, Mom...you actually saved your HOT DOG WRAPPER from that day?") for pulling out, some Sunday afternoon, with accompanying threats of severe haunting and curses directed to each and every descendant that might even consider putting them on eBay (and/or whatever's joined eBay by then...). Then, when the game is over, the photo memory sticks are full and I can't sit and stare around me, any longer...when nobody's watching or listening -- I'll look around one more time and whisper,
"Hey...thanks for everything."
And, then, goodbye.
From 1976-2008 we had a Yankee Stadium with no frieze, no death valley, no Yankee Stadium letters on the lower exterior wall in front. The time to save Yankee Stadium was 35 years ago. Could you image Wrigley with no ivy or Fenway with no green monster or Old Comiskey with no arched windows? That is Yankee Stadium without the frieze. Plus a majority of the seats are in the upper deck and they are steep. Who wants that?
I love upper deck seats - they're cheap, and they give a great view of the action. Nothing's better than sitting in the upper deck, if you ask me.
As a Yankee fan, I will definitely miss OYS. I think the reason there is no outcry is Yankee fans have a sense of resignation about the whole matter. The NYS is being built, and here is no turning back. We can rant and rave, but it'll do no good. Many I think feel as I do, that NYS will be terrific (restuarant obstructions notwithstanding), and maybe it'll be a worthy replacement. I'd rather no new stadium, but what can be done? They are building the damn new place. It's too late now.
I'm going to pretend, and I mean really hard, that NYS is really an updated OYS, on the same field, at the same location. Yeah, it's not true, but hell, let me fool myself enough.
Oh and the image of YS being demolished will really break my heart. But folks, it's coming, and there ain't a damn thing we can do about it.
I just posted in the Tigers demolition thread saying it's sad for stadiums with history to go but I will not argue to see Yankee Stadium go. My disdain for that stadium has reached it's limits and my front screen during the offseason will most definately be a picture of that place being torn down.
I'm a bit torn on this issue. I'm not sure I would have been happier to see a remnant of the stadium still standing, which would have been (probably) more expensive for the city to maintain, and which (probably) would have meant less community access to the green space created (there is no way "Heritage Field" was going to be truly open to the public like a normal park). In fact, seeing the shell of the old stadium may have just filled me with more melancholy.
Perhaps it's best that they have decided to leave only the footprint in the form of a few ball fields. We have now unprecedented ability to record--between videos and photos and 3-D models, etc, the old stadium will be recorded and documented and "preserved" in a way that no other historic park has been before. It will not be forgotten.
But I guess the only real thing Ill miss about the stadium is the history. Besides that, Im sick of cramped isles and always bumping into people just to move along in the tier section. Heck, if you walk by the third base side of the stadium, the padded seats are all torn up. The history will be tough to replace, but in the end, I know that 10, 15 years from now, I'll hopefully be taking my son to the New Stadium and creating memories there.
I wonder what itís like after death. Probíly itís like it is bífore birth. Is it nothing? Non-existence? Thatís not hard tíunderstand, but itís hard for people tíaccept. Itís hard for them to imagine not existing because all of their memories are of their existence, not non-existence. Aní people ainít too crazy about the idea of themselves not existing. - Harvey Pekar, ďShort Weekend: A Story About the Cosmic and the Ordinary,Ē American Splendor #3, 1978.