An affair to remember

Last night the Yankees closed the doors to the house that Ruth built. The pre game ceremonies were great. The return of Bernie Williams was fantastic. Rivera pitching the 9th, ideal. And Jeter thanking the fans after the game was perfect. It got me thinking to memories of great moments at the stadium. I have many, and I could write about them all damn day. I don't want to bore you with that. Especially after writing about things people don't care about on Friday. However,I do have one great memory. 1996 was my favorite World Series. After the first two games the Yankees didn't have a chance. Atlanta was the baseball capital and the Yanks were giant underdogs. Some huge contributors were fresh faces like Jeter, Pettite, Rivera. I used to wear a towel over my head like Pettite did after he got taken out of a game. You know, for luck. I was in the eighth grade and looking back on it, I knew nothing about life. I was on my way to a birthday party when Girardi hit the triple to take a 1-0 lead. Radio calls are my all time favorite, so I was glad to hear it in the car. The party was in a basement and they had about a 10 inch television. It was propped up on a chair and about 15 of us were surrounding it. I was sitting in a very flirtatious position with a young las. After the first out in the 9th I wouldn't let anyone move. It was our lucky position. Thinking about it now, I would have guessed I just didn't want to have to move from my advantageous position with this girl. In reality, I believed us sitting like that would bring the title back to the Bronx. Sure enough that pop up off third sealed the deal. I was euphoric. Although that was the most distant memory of the old stadium, it is the most vivid. So farewell old house. You have given us countless memories, from sitting behind the dugout to watching you on a 10 inch tv, you will be missed.

Looking forward to the blog for the closing of Shea next week as well.
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Next week? Are you assuming the Metropolitans miss the playoffs? Say it ain't so.
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