Guest Blogger: Dylan Prior

She was laid to rest on a Sunday in September, but her story is far from over. As I looked out onto the field from my seat in the left field bleachers last night, every memory I’ve had from Yankee Stadium rushed through my mind. From my first game in 1995, when the Yanks faced the Boston Red Sox and I learned what “1918” meant, to Derek Jeter’s farewell speech and the Yankees’ final lap around the Stadium with their caps doffed to 54,610 adoring fans, I’ve come to consider the place a second home. If someone visiting New York asked me what I thought the one place they should visit should be, my answer would be a no-brainer. Skip the Statue of Liberty, you might get seasick on the boat that takes you there. Catch the Empire State Building some other time, all those steps aren’t worth it. There’s barely room to move in Times Square, and those Broadway plays are a dime a dozen. You need to go to Yankee Stadium. Why? Because she’s got everything. Because she’s hosted Popes, rock stars, boxing legends, football greats, and most importantly, the winningest franchise in all of sports, her Yankees. Because her memories range from the most euphoric, including Don Larsen’s perfect game in 1956, the 1996 World Series clincher and Aaron Boone’s 2003 walkoff home run, to the most emotional, like Lou Gehrig’s “Luckiest Man” speech and President Bush’s first pitch in 2001, to the most gutwrenching, as in the Yankees’ 2004 collapse at the hands of the Boston Red Sox. Because win or lose, every Yankee fan takes with them countless sunny days in the South Bronx when they hadn’t a care in the world. Because more often than not, they won. Because every time you walk through the tunnel to your seat, you know you’re about to spend three hours in the company of your heroes. Because Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle and Derek Jeter stepped onto this field and into our hearts. Because every fan’s idea of Yankee Stadium is unique and beautiful in its own way.
For me, she’s given me the experiences of a lifetime. I stood in amazement with my friends Brian and Mike just feet away from Derek Jeter when he dove into the stands to make a catch in a game on July 1, 2004. I was equally amazed by his bodily sacrifice and concerned for the Captain’s health. I chanted with my friend Steve urging Bernie Williams to come back for one more year in what would be his final game at the Stadium on October 9, 2005. I felt the ground shake beneath me when David Justice sent the Yankees to the Subway Series on October 17, 2000. I joined Bald Vinny from Section 39 when he began his Bleacher Creature roll call with “Yo, Melky!” I pumped my fist with Joba Chamberlain on Opening Day, April 1, 2008. And I cried as the first notes of Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” blared the moment Cody Ransom stepped on first base to end last night’s game.
She’s not just grass, seats, walls and fences. She’s the people who have performed on baseball’s greatest stage and the fans who have given her such a distinctive personality. She’s the reason I went to see the Yankees take on the Mets the day after my prom with about thirty minutes of sleep. She’s the reason I faked sick to leave school at lunch to catch a weekday matinee. She’s the reason I traveled four hours on Amtrak to see her one last time.
She’s Bob Sheppard, “Box seats suck,” the Great New York Subway Race, the YMCA, “God Bless America, “ and “Cotton Eye Joe.” She’s the constant clang of a spoon on Freddy the Sign Man’s pan. She's "THUUUUUUUUH YANKEES WINNNNN!". She’s “The Boys Are Back In Town” when the Bronx Bombers return from a tough West Coast road trip. She’s “The Imperial March” when the opposing lineup is announced. She’s “Enter Sandman” and a wall of sound. She’s “Black Betty” when the opposing pitching coach comes to talk things over with a clearly shaken hurler. She’s a four syllable chant that always seems to have the perfect ring to it. She’s never needed Thunder Stix, pom-poms or rally towels. She’s a homer into the black or the short porch in right. She’s a siren and “The Natural” as a Yankee rounds the bases. She’s the bright lights of October baseball, but she’s also a cold April night in a half-filled upper deck. She’s parking in the supermarket on Grand Concourse and walking past the courthouse. She’s Jeter’s fist pump. She’s Rudy Giuliani’s front row seat. She’s George Steinbrenner’s turtleneck. She’s hundreds of “Yogi-isms.” She’s Joe Torre’s gait to the mound. She’s standing on her feet with 2 strikes. She’s a crowded 4 train approaching 161st and River Ave. She’s the superstars I felt unworthy of being in the same building as: Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera, Roger Clemens and Alex Rodriguez. She’s the heroes of the four World Series teams I’ve witnessed: Paul O’Neill, Scott Brosius, Andy Pettitte, Tino Martinez, David Cone, Orlando Hernandez and Bernie Williams. She’s the role players that embody the spirit of New York: Jim Leyritz, Graeme Lloyd, Miguel Cairo, Ruben Sierra, John Flaherty, Mariano Duncan, Bubba Crosby, Luis Sojo, Andy Phillips and Tanyon Sturtze. She’s a reliable old friend. And she’s you and me, and that’s why her farewell was far from a burial.
Whether or not she needed to go this year is debatable, but the reality is that she will not be open for business in April 2009. And while this winter may be a long one, it could also be a time to reflect on all the memories you’ve had inside her walls. Goodbye Yankee Stadium and thanks for everything, and like it or not, I’ll be across the street next year rooting on my favorite team with you always in my heart.