In a New York minute... err, weekend.

So I had the pleasure of spending this past weekend in New York City with my girlfriend. I hadn't been to the city in years and believe me, it was quite a refresher from weeks of oppressive school work. One of the more exciting things we did that weekend was attend a game at the new Yankee Stadium, a belated birthday gift from my girlfriend. The place was an absolute cathedral, a monument to players of the past and future. Along with the ballpark staples of hot dogs and pretzel, there was a deli counter, sushi stand, southern BBQ booth, and even a small window where onlookers could watch a man chopping up choice cuts of meat. I guess when you spend $1.5 Billion on a new stadium, it comes with a few extra amenities. Now with all this in mind, I have yet to mention which exact game I was at. With a heavy heart I have to admit that I was there for the April 18th game against the Cleveland Indians.

We got to our seats in the level below the grandstand, right on the third-base line. Not bad seats at all. There is no way to describe how elated I was to be there. The third regular season game ever in the new Yankee Stadium. This is the kind of thing you tell your grandkids. Unfortunately for me, I may not want to remember this game myself. First Inning. Cleveland is up. One, Two, Three, Chen Ming Wang shuts their lineup down. I was worried since he had been pitching like crap every game so far in the short season. Bottom of the First. Mark Teixeira snaps a two-run homer out right and I was almost surprised when it made it over the the center-right fence. Boy, was that an omen of things to come. With the Yankees lineup retired, the dreaded top of the second inning begins... and never ends. Home-run. Home-run. Grand Slam. They kept coming. After the first couple I was swearing Chen Ming Wang up and down. But as the Cleveland score reached double digits, it was almost as if I went numb to the horrible pitching. Wang is done, and in goes Anthony Claggett. Who the hell is that? Turns out the boys in blue were worried about not having a reliever should Wang play shitty again and they pulled this Claggett fellow out of triple-A Scranton. He didn't fare much better, although he did record one more out than Wang did.

The end of the second inning was the beginning of two things. One. The chant "We want Swisher" started to echo through the stadium and would remain for the rest of the game. Two. A mass exodus of fans out of the park began. Following each inning, as the Yanks remained in a double-digit defecit, the stands became more and more empty. But I stayed. A real Yankee doesn't abandon his team when the going gets rough, but then again, perhaps I was just deluding myself. Before too long Jeter and Teixeira were pulled from the batting order. I saw my heo, Derek Jeter himself, on the massive 110' screen, dressed in a polo and leaning over the dugout fence. Makes sense, they really didn't have much of a chance. But the fan that I am, I continued to hope that the home-run wind vortex in center-right field would pull about twenty Yankee runs over the fence even at the very end of the game... alas. As the game quickly became comical, with few innings left, my girlfriend and I made our way from out upper tier seats down to the near-empty bleachers. At this point I was in one of those "Whatever" moods and decided it would be fun to heckle the Cleveland outfielders. The very next play became my highlight of the game as the right and center fielders for the Indians slammed into eacho ther and the wall while attempting to catch a fly ball. It was one of the few moments of baseball joy I took from that game. The game was fun, I had a good time. Now it would have been better if the final score had been the other way around but eh, what are you gonna do?

Following the bloodbath in which the Yankees set a franchise record for most runs scored against them in an inning, we made our way out to the street. As a sort of nostalgic sentiment I suggested that we walk around the old stadium before getting on the Metro. There it was, the "House the Ruth Built", to be torn down slowly over one to two years. The gates were all closed, the ticket counters shut, it really was a sad sight to see. But I've moved on. The new ballpark across the street is beautiful, a testament to what it is to be a Yankee and a Yankee fan. I just hope that my Bronx Bombers can turn things around and put a little heart into the new stadium, so that its more than just a pretty building on 161st Street. A ballpark is more than luxury boxes and sushi bars. WIth that sentiment in mind, "The House that Steinbrenner Built" doesn't quite has the same ring to it as "The House that Ruth Built". There will always be the memories of what happened across the street, but I have great confidence that the Yankees can bring as much to the plate in the new stadium as they ever have.