There are a few places that everyone has where they feel happiest. That place where you can’t help but smile all day. You sort of tingle all over. Or maybe you just feel all kinds of relaxation. Sometimes that place is within a group of people. For me, it’s when I’m with my immediate family. All right, I’m not smiling all day or tingling all over, but I’m comfortable. It’s home, wherever that may be. For now it’s over a thousand miles away.

Maybe it’s doing what you love to do. Maybe you sing. Maybe you dance. For me, there’s nothing better than the challenge of blank paper (or blank screen) waiting for me to lay down thoughts and ideas in prose, feelings and emotions in poetry, fantasies and daydreams in burgeoning novels and screenplays. There’s nothing else like creating something from nothing.

I’m always a child again though at beautiful 85 year old Yankee Stadium. E 161st St and River Ave. Where you can throw your fist in the air with a yell and not feel like a complete idiot. Where you can yell at the top of your lungs, “Go Johnny, Go! Go, Go!” as Johnny Damon rounds second looking for a triple (he made it). Where you can clap along and slap hands with complete strangers. Maybe you just don’t understand, but put yourself in your own special place and you’ll start to see what I mean. Go ahead and multiply that by let’s say three, and there you go.

So because Opening Day was cancelled, I developed a little *cough* and had to call out sick from work. I really don’t care what bosses may or may not know. I had hours to use and I used them. I’m definitely not going to give up the final Opening Day at Yankee Stadium to be treated like shit at work. Pfft! Fuck that!!

So, here we are again, only it’s Opening Night. But I had to get there first…

I leave my apartment in my freshest Yankee gear. Baggy blue jeans. Navy blue Yankee hoody. Yankee t-shirt underneath. The small Yankee NY logo pendant that my sisters gave me for Christmas 2001 which hangs on the chain I’ve had since I was five. My Mariano Rivera jersey over said hoody. My black Yankee Reebok Classics. And of course my ubiquitous Yankee hat. I swear if I had Yankee boxers, I’d wear those too! (black and white plaid boxers, in case you really need to know!) I put the ticket in my pocket first, before anything else. Keys, money, cell, glasses, ipod, Nike drawstring bag with today’s newspaper. Cool. Let’s go!

Pay the rent to the landlord above, pick up my mail, tell them I’m off to the Stadium. I planned to leave at four thirty for this seven o’clock game. I really don’t want to hit traffic along the way. Any of the four highways I’ll be taking are prime traffic hot spots. If I catch rush hour in any one spot for too long, I’m fucked because they’ll definitely be traffic at a later spot along the line. Definitely on the Deegan coming off the Triboro Bridge heading to Yankee Stadium. So there I am, on time. Four thirty and starting my car. Cool. On the Meadowbrook and everything is calm. I read a sign above that says, “Delays to exit 32, Eastbound Northern State”. Nice. Good thing I’m going West! Lol… FUCK! I forgot my camera! But it’s too late to get off as the Meadowbrook is ending and branching off into the Northern State. I choose West. Hopefully I can swing back around going South on the Meadowbrook and back home. I get off at this next exit going East. I follow signs that will put me back on the Northern State going East so I can look for the Meadowbrook South off ramp. No luck, I must have overshot it. And guess where I ended up? Yup, you’re damn right I ended up in the same traffic I just laughed about. That’s a painful ten minutes. So I end up having to take exit 32 (and yes, traffic was smooth sailing after this exit), and take the long, slow way back home.

I’m back home and I run to my apartment, grab my camera off the floor where it lay charging, and then I’m back on the road. I look at the time. This whole ordeal cost me half an hour. Great. I could’ve procrastinated with more efficiency than this. So I’m off again. Meadowbrook to the Northern State, Westbound. I’m hoping not to catch traffic. I go along at a nice clip. I notice someone swerving in and out of traffic. Oh, yeah! I forgot I can do that too. So I do, ‘cuz I can, and I’m good at it. This is what happens when you’ve been driving since you were eleven. Thanks ma!

Anyway, of course I hit traffic. Damn it! I don’t give in to panic just yet. That’s just me. I’m a cool customer. But if it stayed like that, you’re damn right I’d be cursing and shitting on people (ok, maybe not literally shitting on people, but i’d be really really mad!) The traffic was just a little blip of a fart in my plans. So I continue on. A nice clip again. I’m almost at the border now, trying to look for it and BLAM! A sledgehammer to the front of my car. This is what I was looking out for, that seam that runs the width of the border of the Northern State and the Grand Central. You’re greeted with what feels like the most massive pothole ever created. You can almost hear the city yell, “HEY, FUCK YOU! WELCOME TO QUEENS! (ya fuckwad!)” Always so lovely. 5:25pm. Pretty good so far, but anything can still happen.

So I eventually pass my old college St. John’s. And I drive past the building traffic getting onto the Jackie Robinson that would take me to my old stomping grounds. And past Flushing Meadows. And the USTA Center, with Arthur Ashe Stadium where tennis’ US Open final rounds are played. And then the junkyard at Shea Stadium (really! there’s a junkyard there!). Lol, and then Shea. This is where I started to think about traffic again, with LaGuardia coming up. Airport traffic is always horrible. Nothing to worry about though. Nice. Now onto the Triboro Bridge.

Now, the Triboro is in a state of constant construction. I’ve never seen it not under some sort of construction and I’m 28, so what does that say? Anyway, I drive on through the rough patches as the roads get narrower. Now, if you’ve never driven in NYC then you have no idea what I mean. It takes a certain kind of skill and talent. You need balls to drive around here honestly. And no, I’m not saying only guys can drive. I really do mean that you need to be aggressive. You need that moxie and fortitude. Nerves of steel. Throughout the city you constantly drive about two or three feet away from the guy next to you. So when I say the roads get narrow, I mean narrow! The dividers close in on you, as well as the SUV’s and trucks. The driving only gets crazier from here. Manhattan and the Bronx are just infamous. Especially up in Washington Heights when I visit family. You really do need to have some Dominican in you to survive in a car up there. Good thing I’m 100% Dominican, huh?

So, I avoid the Bruckner and hop onto the Deegan after paying the $5 toll. Ahh, the traffic I expected has come to fruition. The only time I ever see the Deegan not have any traffic is late night. And late night means past one in the morning (please don’t ask what i’m doing in the bronx at one in the morning, let’s keep this somewhat appropriate). So I get off at exit four. A long-ass line on the off ramp. I see a flashing sign ahead with an arrow pointing to the left for Yankee parking. I’m not even going to try to find another parking lot along the street leading up to the Stadium. It’s 6:00pm and I know those must all be filled up by now.

So I go to one of these “lots”. Disgusting fields that were paved maybe only fifty years after dinosaurs walked the Earth. Mud puddles protrude from the cracked ground (oh yeah, it rained all day until now, in case i didn’t mention. which i didn’t.). I find a spot furthest away from the parking lot gate, overlooking the Harlem River. I get out and wonder how I’m going to get out without nasti-fucki-fying my sneakers. I kept a close look at the ground as I made my way out the lot. I walked (trekked is more like it) with scattered groups on a journey under the Major Deegan Expressway. I say journey because it felt like some damned Lord of the Rings expedition (we lost good men along the way). I check my sneakers and see the heel of my left one is coated in mud. Yes! Awesome! (*ahem* sarcasm alert.) But I finally found my way under the Deegan and to the other side. We went up and over the Metro North train tracks below in the tunnel/bridge that used to be used for ferry passengers.

And there I was. Again. Only a mere mile or three from where I was born and lived for a few years. Yankee Stadium. I was just here yesterday. I was inside at my seat, sitting next to the Fat Man. Cold. Wet. Wishing and hoping they would play the game. Of course they wouldn’t, and here I am today for Opening Night. I was here two weeks ago on the Yankee Stadium tour. I was here four times last year. And once each of the two previous years. It never gets old though. It’s a shrine that should never die. I smile a little as I pull out my ticket and enter. 6:20pm.

I finally got to see the pomp and ceremony of Opening Day at Yankee Stadium (i missed the first inning last year in case you’re not a subscriber to my journal). No fighter jets though! Where are my fucking jets flying overhead at the conclusion of the national anthem?! I HAVE TO BE HERE FOR THE NEW YANKEE STADIUM NOW! But that was a given anyway, wasn’t it?

So I go to the bathroom and clean the mud off my Classics. The concession stand is next, where I’m happily gouged for two hot dogs and a bottle of water. I go to my seat and the Fat Man is already there. No, Fat Man, I will not have you set your ass on my elbow this time. I sit an extra seat away. I’ll move later if I have to. And then the owners of said seat arrive. A young guy and his girlfriend. I know it was his girlfriend because you don’t touch your sister’s leg like that. At least I sure as hell don’t! They were cool though, and her chatting about everything that wasn’t baseball was just enough to not be overly annoying. So other than the Fat Man’s bulbous form beckoning me, and the national anthem’s singer’s voice cracking a bit, everything was finally ok.

And then they played baseball.

Chien-Ming Wang almost had a shaky first inning. An unconventional double play helped him out and kept the Blue Jays off the board. Actually Wang was only so-so. He still only gave up so many runs (more on that later. don’t want to ruin the outcome in case you don’t already know.). His defense behind him really helped him out.

And then the Yankees came up to bat. And got two quick outs. Ack! And then Bobby Abreu comes up to bat. So derided, and put down. So disparaged and sometimes cleverly mocked. Ok, ok by me mostly. But stop trying to pull the damn ball all the time! (ok, that was early in the season last year. he finally started stepping up his game and waited on pitches and hit them the other way) So funny looking… So exquisite that hit past the second baseman Aaron Hill for the first Yankee hit of the season! And then comes Alex Rodriguez to bat. A roar among the crowd. He comes up clutch and laces a pitch to deep right center, scoring Bobby from first with a double. Nice! And then Giambi flies out to center. Double Ack!

This was such a classic old school kind of baseball game. The Blue Jays tied the game on a fielder’s choice (in other words, the ball was hit to the ground and the fielder went for the sure out rather than trying to go for the man about to score). They took the lead on another fielder’s choice in the fifth. We tied it back up with a home run (keep reading to find out who!) and took the lead for good when Matsui grounded into another fielder’s choice to score A-Rod in the seventh inning.

Now the highlights of the game came from one of our many Baby Bombers. You’d think they’d come from Jeter or Posada, or other Yankee stars. Now, I’ve seen this kid grow up and be one of the better defensive centerfielders in the game (kid! i’m only like five years older.). I’m talking about Melky Cabrera of course. Top of the fourth inning, one out. The game is tied at one. Lyle Overbay smacks a ball to deep right center. If there was a good wind heading out, it would’ve been a home run. Instead it got all the way to the wall. Melky tracked it down all the way, making a leaping grab against the wall for the second out. Now if you know anything about New York sports fans, it’s that they appreciate effort and great plays. That was enough for people to shout his name. I knew if he pulled another one like that on successive plays, these people would go crazy. I wondered how that would sound… Aaron Hill came up to bat next and looped a good shot to left center. Melky got on it and made the play before the momentum took him to the ground. The place went fucking bananas! He just saved two extra base hits from two pretty decent hitters. And if New York fans appreciate effort, they love someone who made bad rookie mistakes when he first came up, only to become someone who’s slowly starting to become feared for his arm and his range. The Stadium faithful serenaded him as the Yankees got off the field. “Melky! Melky! Melky!” His teammates congratulated him on two great plays. Wang was especially grateful. We tried to get a defensive curtain call from him, but he didn’t come back out. It’s not unheard of to come out for defense, but it wouldn’t take him long to make a conventional curtain call.

Bottom of the sixth inning, and Toronto had the lead 2-1. Melky is up to leadoff the inning. The crowd gives him another round of appreciation. I thought, “Wouldn’t it be cool for him to hit a home run here?” Well, that’s just fanciful thinking. Melky isn’t a home run hitter. For now, he’s an ok contact hitter. He’ll learn to hit better, but he’ll always be more of a contact and average hitter than some power guy. One day I can see him hitting leadoff or second in our lineup. He showed a lot of that promise against one of the best pitchers in all of baseball. Halladay is a feared and nasty pitcher. Melky battled him like a damn warrior. He kept fouling pitches off and eventually ran the count full. Epic for a kid against this grizzled veteran. And then on the 3-2 pitch, Melky sends the ball high in the air and just over the fence at the 314 (hmm, my birthday!) sign in right field. The short porch was built for the Babe so many years ago, and here it was again being used by a Baby Bomber. Tie game. If you thought the crowd went insane before, the building literally shook as they cheered for him. We managed to call him out for his curtain call this time. What an awesome moment for one of my favorite players.

Now we finally took the lead in the seventh. Wang had his lead. So we brought in the phenom pitcher, Joba Chamberlain to his theme song, “Shout at the Devil”. He came in to roars and flashing lights. Everyone must’ve had a camera, I swear. With each pitch came another round of sporadic flashes. He came in and did his thing. He got a ground ball out from Shannon Stewart. Then he walked Alex Rios. He struck out Vernon Wells as Rios stole second. He then struck out Frank Thomas to an uproarious yell from the throng of Yankee fans. Joba pumped his fist with a mighty shout. Another great moment.

Johnny Damon led off the bottom of the eighth inning with a triple. They couldn’t bring him in for that insurance run though. They wouldn’t need it as they called in the Sandman, Mariano Rivera. The Metallica classic came on to cheers and applause as he jogged in from the bullpen in left field. More flashes from everywhere. Again, each pitch brought another round. He struck out the first batter, Overbay. Nice. Hill flied out to deep center. And then Marco Scutaro. Scutaro hit a walk-off home run against Rivera last year in Oakland. I knew Mariano remembered. This would be a nice, small vindication for him. Scutaro grounded to Robinson Cano for the last out, and the first win of the season. The first save of the season for Rivera. The first win for new manager Joe Girardi.

THE YAAAAAAANKEES WIN!!!

Play me home Frank!

I stuck around to watch them celebrate their first win. I took a few more pics and then traded taking pics with a cute girl who came out to take in Opening Night by herself. What an awesome fan!

And then I think about what it’ll be like in the new Stadium. I wonder why this Stadium has to go. I know there still has to be a way to historically preserve this place. The city claims that with the remodeling in ’74-’75 the exterior was changed so drastically that it’s not the same building anymore. I call bullshit on that. The framework is still there. The ghosts still play baseball here. The site is sacred, not just the building itself. If I have to be out there collecting signatures for a petition, that’s what I’ll do. All I heard the last two days coming up here was lamenting from the fans. One even went so far to say that seeing the already mostly completed exterior of the new Stadium made him sick.

This place deserves so much better than to be razed and demolished. The city says it’ll be made into a ballpark for the area to make up for the one that was done away with for the new Stadium. Home plate will even be aligned with the current Stadium’s home plate. Yeah, that’s all well and good and all if this was just another ballpark. Just another team. But this place is almost a second home to many. It’s the battleground of many wars. A lot of hallowed names played here. It would almost be poetic if indeed this is what happens. The evolution of a Stadium. The lifespan of it. From a wooded parcel of land to the Cathedral of Baseball. One of the greatest and most recognizable buildings in the world. And then back down to a place where children will play, like the ghosts of past did so many years ago.

There’s an odd countdown above the black seats in centerfield that counts the remaining number of games left in the Stadium. It’s almost morbid. Snoopy looks way too happy on that Metlife sign. I don’t think it’s any cause for celebration. There aren’t that many places where I or so many other people can just let go for a while and be happy, even if it’s for a good three hours.

A special place deserves special treatment.

Well, anyways…

Don’t even get me started about the long-ass wait in the parking “lot” on my way back home. Traffic was weird as I saw myself almost getting pinned by opposite SUV’s a number of times. But I got home quick after the long line back onto the Deegan. And yeah, I got a nice, “FUCK YOU! COME BACK SOON!” from the seam in the highway at the Queens-Nassau border again.

And then it wasn’t until I got home and looked down that I saw my jeans and my shoes were all spotted with mud! (but the NY logos were untouched and pristine!)

What a beautiful day!

LET’S PLAY BALL!!!