Walking around New York on Monday I came across this field. Wouldn't it be great to play a game in the city?
The very first major league ballpark I visited was old Yankee stadium. I think it was 1961, the year of Maris. I was six years old. It was the coolest experience of my life and it changed EVERYTHING for me. You have to realize that prior to this trip baseball was a black and white thing for me. I had seen the game on TV (black and white)and had seen pictures in the paper (black and white) and read some books, mostly black and white photos. To walk into Yankee stadium and see the expanse of green grass, brown dirt, colorful signs everywhere and my goodness it seemed like each section of the bleachers was a different color. I stood there with my mouth open in awe of the site. I was hooked for life.
And I WAS a huge Yankee fan. Every time we played baseball I was Micky Mantle, or Tom Tresh or Moose Skowron. I had a cheap Yankee hat on my head every minute of the day. The year we left NY (1964) a neighbor who was a writer for the Times agreed to take my brother and I to the game on our last day in town. We were going to get to go to the locker room after the game and meet the players. His mother died unexpectedly the night before our visit and our trip, but not our move, was cancelled.
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