[Fredslist] Real Estate 101...Gone but not forgotten

[JADLER115 at aol.com]

My friend and client has written a memorable piece about a  memorable place.  
I shall also take this time to wish those who  observe and those who do 
not...a Happy and Healthy New  Year 
from 
Janet  Adler Realty  




Heidi’s New York Life  Adventure 
Part  33 

So Long, Old  Friend 

*      *      * 

I’m sorry to see it  over.... 
(Yogi Berra 09/21/08) 

*      *      * 

As I walked up  the subway stairs at 161st Street in the Bronx, I felt a 
twinge of  sadness.  But, the hustle of feet shuffling down the street distracted 
my  thoughts and I was quickly swept up in the madness of Yankee fever as I, 
myself,  walked into the stadium for the last time this past weekend.   
I don't know  much about baseball, but for the past seven years, I've grown 
fond of the game  by way of the New York Yankees.  I remember my first game at 
Yankee Stadium  -- I was taken with the energy of the crowd and the loyalty 
they feel towards  the team.  It's an intense love affair for New York fans, 
mourning the  losses and screaming in ecstasy at the series-winning home runs.   
Only a few  months after I relocated to New York in 2000, the Yankees won the 
World Series  against the Mets.  Derek Jeter was voted Most Valuable Player.  
It was  the first Subway Series in New York since 1956 and, for now, the last 
 time the Yankees won the World Series.  I watched the ticker-tape parade go  
up Broadway near my office where bushes actually caught fire from  ticker 
tape that was sparked by something.  Maybe it was the electricity of  the crowd. 
In all these  years, I never imagined I'd see as many games as I have or even 
develop an  affection for this spectacle, much less the arena.  In a place 
that opened  in 1923, the outfield grass is the sharpest shade of green there 
is, and the  larger-than-life "NY" on the ground behind home plate seems to glow 
at  night.  The smell of ball-park franks as a vendor passes by goes  
hand-in-hand with the crunch of shells under my feet as I shuck peanuts to chomp  on 
during the game.   
I love those  superstitious tags the players make with their bats on the 
plate as they prepare  to strike that little white ball.  And the flurry of 
flashbulbs going off  as Jeter steps into the batter’s box.  I get chills when 
singing along with  Kate Smith to "God Bless America." And I try my best but always 
sound out  of key when crooning to "Take Me Out To The Ball Game."  Foul 
balls,  pinstripes, Bud Lights, and home runs.  A mixture of fans, young and  old. 
  
I've sat in  the bleachers and watched from the distance as players rounded 
the bases towards  home.  I've frozen my butt off at early Spring games.  I've 
been  sunburned and even rained on at late Summer games.  I've watched the  
faces of little boys and girls in blue Yankee caps too big for their heads as  
they cheer with wide eyes and bright smiles.  I've watched a drunken fan  run 
onto the field and dive into second base only to be pounced on by a sea of  
NYPD blue who briskly escorted him off the field in handcuffs as fans booed the  
interruption of a great game.  I've sat in better seats than Tom Hanks  and 
I've kissed a boy and held hands while watching players warm up just a  few feet 
away.    
Like a lot of  people, Yankee Stadium holds a special place in my soul.  I'm 
hoping an era  of affection will be borne next year at the new Yankee Stadium, 
but the  heart of my memories will stay in The House That Ruth Built.     
So long, old friend. 
Love to all, 
Heidi M.  Nunnally 
© September 23, 2008 




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