NakamuraYankee Stadium: Through The Eyes of a Child
It was the most anticipated moment in this little boy's life. The feeling of being safe and secure at his grandfather's side but knowing that in a few minutes, when you passed through the gates, you would be a part of something that is bigger than yourself. As we approached the field I looked at my grandfather and watched him in awe as his old eyes became childlike. The joy on his face was insurmountable as he watched the players warming up on the grass, which was covered by a blanket of dew. At that very moment there was no difference between the sparkle of the grass and the sparkle in our eyes as we studied the historic monument in amazement. We barely even noticed that we were approaching our seats.
As we walked up what seemed like a million stairs we could feel the cold banister slide through our hands. Almost simultaneously we sat on the seats. For it was as cold as anyone is before a highly anticipated game, is about to start. I remember hearing my grandpa's voice talking to me as we sat. " One day that will be you on the field and I will watch you from this here seat.'' Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he pulled out a baseball glove and handed it to me. It was so new and fresh that the smell of freshly tanned hide leather felt warm and present. As he handed me the glove, there was no rigidness on his old hands. At that instant they were as smooth as a baby's bottom. He slipped the glove on my hand and it fit perfectly. The glove was practically glued onto my left hand the entire time. As the game was about to start, I noticed that the seat became warmer, much like I did. My grandfather and I were inseparable at that moment and I couldn't have been happier.
From our seats we could see everything. I remember watching the players trot onto the field, their cleats bristling the newly cut grass and sending a sensation of exuberant aromas through my little nostrils. The smell of drunken fans was also present, but I won't fully get into that. As the National Anthem started everybody rose from his or her seats. It was as if everything had been choreographed and practiced by everyone for many days and now it was everyone's time to present it. Looking at my grandfather at this odd but calming time, I watched him standing there, so full of himself and patriotic. His hand covered his heart so perfectly and his posture at that moment was a sight to behold. The song ended and everybody sat down.... except my grandpa. He grabbed me by the hand very softly and all of a sudden we started running. I was very confused but I decided to go along with it. We ran through Yankee Stadium and came upon a humongous concession stand. It was filled with the smells of salted pretzels and boiling hotdogs. My grandpa told me, " If you want something badly you have to wait for it.... work hard to achieve it...and when the time is right strike at the opportunity... '' I guess the time was right at that moment because we were first on the line and as we started to place our order people then started filling in behind us. We bought a lot of food, from sweet cotton candy that practically melted in my mouth, to salty pretzels that burned your throat after every bite. We had a blast eating food and enjoying the game, as every player left nothing on the field to try and impress the crowds one more time.
After every hit, the crack of the pricey, hand crafted bats filled the entire stadium. Although the relationship between my grandfather and I was the strongest one in the stadium, the relationship between the pitcher and catcher was a close second. They worked in perfect harmony and understood every sign or signal ahead of time. The catcher's mitt popping after catching a whizzing baseball that traveled over 100 mph, the cheers of gratitude, or the boos of disgust, or even watching my grandpa in awe as he studied every play and wrote it down as if it would be the last thing he ever wrote. It didn’t matter what these signs meant to the others who saw and heard them. To me it could only mean one thing. Baseball.
Today, my grandfather is no longer with us anymore, but the morals he taught me are ones that will last until the day I die. He taught me never to give up and to wait...work hard...and then strike at the opportunity if you want to achieve your goals. They say that everything comes to an end but for me the end is a new beginning. My memories will always last and one day I will pass these memories on to my children like my grandpa did with me. Only this time, it will be in the new Yankee Stadium and a new memory will be enshrined on my life. "For memories are either as vivid or as remarkable as you allow your little eyes to let them to be."
-Written by: "Dangerous" Dan. This article is copyrighted © by Dangerous Dan and Nakamura and may not be reproduced, recopied, or used in any form without permission from Dangerous Dan and Nakamura
As we walked up what seemed like a million stairs we could feel the cold banister slide through our hands. Almost simultaneously we sat on the seats. For it was as cold as anyone is before a highly anticipated game, is about to start. I remember hearing my grandpa's voice talking to me as we sat. " One day that will be you on the field and I will watch you from this here seat.'' Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he pulled out a baseball glove and handed it to me. It was so new and fresh that the smell of freshly tanned hide leather felt warm and present. As he handed me the glove, there was no rigidness on his old hands. At that instant they were as smooth as a baby's bottom. He slipped the glove on my hand and it fit perfectly. The glove was practically glued onto my left hand the entire time. As the game was about to start, I noticed that the seat became warmer, much like I did. My grandfather and I were inseparable at that moment and I couldn't have been happier.
The home of the Yankees and the most fondest memory of my childhood
From our seats we could see everything. I remember watching the players trot onto the field, their cleats bristling the newly cut grass and sending a sensation of exuberant aromas through my little nostrils. The smell of drunken fans was also present, but I won't fully get into that. As the National Anthem started everybody rose from his or her seats. It was as if everything had been choreographed and practiced by everyone for many days and now it was everyone's time to present it. Looking at my grandfather at this odd but calming time, I watched him standing there, so full of himself and patriotic. His hand covered his heart so perfectly and his posture at that moment was a sight to behold. The song ended and everybody sat down.... except my grandpa. He grabbed me by the hand very softly and all of a sudden we started running. I was very confused but I decided to go along with it. We ran through Yankee Stadium and came upon a humongous concession stand. It was filled with the smells of salted pretzels and boiling hotdogs. My grandpa told me, " If you want something badly you have to wait for it.... work hard to achieve it...and when the time is right strike at the opportunity... '' I guess the time was right at that moment because we were first on the line and as we started to place our order people then started filling in behind us. We bought a lot of food, from sweet cotton candy that practically melted in my mouth, to salty pretzels that burned your throat after every bite. We had a blast eating food and enjoying the game, as every player left nothing on the field to try and impress the crowds one more time.
After every hit, the crack of the pricey, hand crafted bats filled the entire stadium. Although the relationship between my grandfather and I was the strongest one in the stadium, the relationship between the pitcher and catcher was a close second. They worked in perfect harmony and understood every sign or signal ahead of time. The catcher's mitt popping after catching a whizzing baseball that traveled over 100 mph, the cheers of gratitude, or the boos of disgust, or even watching my grandpa in awe as he studied every play and wrote it down as if it would be the last thing he ever wrote. It didn’t matter what these signs meant to the others who saw and heard them. To me it could only mean one thing. Baseball.
Today, my grandfather is no longer with us anymore, but the morals he taught me are ones that will last until the day I die. He taught me never to give up and to wait...work hard...and then strike at the opportunity if you want to achieve your goals. They say that everything comes to an end but for me the end is a new beginning. My memories will always last and one day I will pass these memories on to my children like my grandpa did with me. Only this time, it will be in the new Yankee Stadium and a new memory will be enshrined on my life. "For memories are either as vivid or as remarkable as you allow your little eyes to let them to be."
-Written by: "Dangerous" Dan. This article is copyrighted © by Dangerous Dan and Nakamura and may not be reproduced, recopied, or used in any form without permission from Dangerous Dan and Nakamura
Baseball Author
Tech Poke
Writing Edition
Anything or Everything?
Baseball Author
Tech Poke
Writing Edition
Anything or Everything?
don't sweat it, I'm going to assume that you meant to post that on the yankees post season preview?