In Europe, they preserve their cathedrals. Here is the U.S., they knock them down, build a “new” model, call it bigger and better, and put it all down as “progress.”
The House that Ruth built is being torn down.
It was there that:
I was first awestruck to see the wide green expanse of the field while coming up the tunnel holding my dad’s hand. It was (and still is) one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
I saw Dick McAulliffe hit two runs off of Jim Bouton to beat the Yankees, breaking my 9-year-old heart in my first major league game.
I saw Tom Tresh hit my first Yankee home run.
I saw Mickey Mantle hit two home runs in one game.
I saw Bobby Murcer get four hits in a game against the Orioles.
I saw an Old-Timer’s game with Joe DiMaggio, Allie Reynolds, Whitey Ford and Roger Maris, to name but a few.
I saw the great Thurman Munson make two crucial errors to lose a game against the White Sox.
I saw Paul Blair get an extra-inning single to beat the Dodgers to win the first game of the 1977 World Series.
I saw Ron Guidry work magic in ’78.
I saw Frank Thomas single-handedly take the Yankees apart.
I saw Stump Merrill manage a most unsightly Yankee squad during The Dark Years, part 2.
As the years went on and I drifted away from the New York area and baseball (to a degree), I visited the stadium less. But it was always comforting to know it was still there with the monuments along with the views of the Grand Concourse and the blighted Bronx.
I’m sure the new park is great in its own way. But it can’t be the same.
The cost of progress is far more expensive than any us realize.
No comments:
Post a Comment