Yes, it's true, I've got Yankee pride through and through
With the start of the baseball season just days away, I am posting a blog I wrote last year about the New York Yankees, explaining my encounter with the House That Ruth Built and the beginning of my love affair with the Bronx Bombers.Yes, it's true. I love the Yankees. If you know me, those blue lines under my arms are not veins, they are pinstripes!
Almost on a daily basis, people ask me why I like the New York Yankees. You know, I'm from Ohio; I live in Ohio, so I'm supposed to be a Cleveland Indians fan. All my life people have been "telling" me whom I should like and the reason why I should do this is because of where I live. This is utterly ridiculous.
If I live in a cockroach-infested apartment in the ghetto, am I supposed to like that too? And you know what I'm going to ask next, if your friends jumped off a cliff, would you jump too?
Well, I don't jump. And, I never jump on to the proverbial bandwagon either.
I am a proud Yankee fan. It doesn't matter to me if the Indians put a real beating on the Yanks in the Bronx. The last time I checked, a loss by 16 runs or a loss by one run, still was an "L" in the loss column. So it matters not to me. Of course, I'd like to have seen them beat Cleveland but in reality, it's just one game.
So for you Indians fans, I don't care what you have to say. I will always be a Yankee fan. I'll let the championship pennants that adorn Yankee Stadium speak for themselves.
I first became a Yankee fan on my first trip to a major league baseball game. I was fortunate enough to be invited with a friend to accompany his family to a baseball game at the old Indians stadium. We sat in the upper level and the seats were not great. So this is what a major league game is all about, I remember thinking.
But then the opposing team came onto the field. You guessed it—the New York Yankees. Right below our seats was left field. The one and only, Reggie Jackson, was right below us! Wow, I could feel the excitement then and still can. There was something about how he played the game, carried himself as the fans boo-ed him and then there was the tradition of the New York Yankees. Who can argue with the teams and players of the past? Yankee tradition is packed full of baseball greats.
There are a handful of things I want to do before I die. It's kind of my list of must-dos in life—my bucket list. One near the top of the list was to visit Yankee Stadium. Not the new Yankee palace but the House That Ruth Built. It was my first trip to New York City and one that will forever be etched in my mind.
Arriving on the Yankee Clipper ferry on the Hudson River, I could see the stadium getting bigger and bigger. When we docked, I couldn't wait to get off and see the place I had so longed to see. I was like a kid on Christmas morning racing down the stairs, nearly falling to get to the Christmas tree to see what Santa Claus left.
There are not many things in my life that have brought me to tears but I must confess, I had more than one tear as the Bat and entrance to the stadium appeared before my eyes.
I was there.
Yankee fans were everywhere, and I was right at home.
Walking (or in my case, nearly running) to our seats, I began to ponder all the legends who walked the concourse before me. I had to slow down and wait for my son and husband to catch up. Getting to our seats in the mid-level section between third base and left field, the green grass was paradise on earth.
I've never tasted a stadium hot dog and cold beer that was so satisfying in my life. I savored every bite of that dog and the beer, well; on a warm July night was just perfect!
The fans were great. Everyone, some with season tickets around us, pointed out where and what to do and made us feel right at home. And then there was Monument Park, paying tribute to Yankee legends of the past. I was finally there. I still can't believe it even three years later.
You know, I was at home. It was a dream come true. The game was nearly perfect, except for falling to the Detroit Tigers. But really that didn't matter. The score didn't ruin my trip. It was the place—just being where I had wanted to be since I was seven years old. Looking back I am so happy that I could fulfill one of my childhood dreams. Because you see, when you come right down to it, it's not about the Yankees. It's about doing something you've always wanted to; something that you've thought about for years and years. Seeing that become reality is what it was all about. I made it. Yeah, I made it to Yankee Stadium.
Just like Old Blue Eyes sang, "If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere," well, I made it there.