I can remember my first baseball card. It was the spring of 1980. I played for the Royals, but if you turned the card over you saw it. My favorite player and team listed weren't really something you would expect from a kid from Alabama. But even then, I had heard the stories from my aunt. How as a little girl she would sit by the radio with my granddad and listen to them play. Even though later that summer I would be turned on to the Houston Astros with a trip to the Astrodome, I've always held a fondness in my heart for them. They were my granddad's team. They were once America's team. Last night I watched as they played the final game in the "mecca" of sports arenas. If you haven't figured it out by now, they are the New York Yankees. Love them or hate them and I bet you fall into one of those categories, last night was a special night. Sitting there watching the events unfold, I could see the Babe, the Mick, Joltin' Joe, Gehrig, Yogi, all the former Yankees as though they were all standing there frozen in time. As a kid, I wanted to play for the Yankees so my granddad could watch me, but I never got that chance. I had planned on going to New York this summer so I could say I was there at least once, but I didn't get that chance either. So, last night as I watched, I thought about all the greats that had played there and what a feeling that had to be. I tried to picture what it must have been like years ago when my aunt and granddad were listening. Next year they will open the doors to a magnificent new stadium across the street. Many of the players will be the same. Even the name of the stadium will be the same. But to many, the building will be nothing compared to the house that Ruth built. You can take the memories of the old park with you, but you'll never be able to create them again, Yankee Stadium was a special place. And if you're wondering about who my favorite player was, it was Graig Nettles.
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