New York, New York...July 4th, 1983

Admit it. You had a tear in your eye as you walked away from the stadium after the final game on September 21, 2008. The sound of Sinatra singing New York, New York is fading with every step. You remember the first time you ever came to this ballpark. Maybe you were young, maybe you were old. You might not have even knew where you were going...who are all these people?...do I smell pretzels?...is that the voice of God calling out names?

You may have been about seven years old when on a beautiful July 4th in 1983 your grandmother took you to see America's great pastime — and you saw a gem. Even though you sat in the big blue plastic seat wiggling your legs and almost overdosed on soda and pretzels, you had a blast. With every pitch the crowd seemd to grow louder and louder. You had no idea why they were all so damn loud, but hey it was a great excuse for you to get loud too. Inbetween the wild roars of the fans there was a tension. You asked grandma "what are they doing now" and you were immediately shooshed. "Humph!" you said, under your breath of course ( cuz, grandma don't take shit from anyone, especially seven year old grandsons ).

But you sat patiently and watched those guys in gray shirts and matching pants go to that unsquare base, stand there, swing and miss...over and over again. You laughed because the name of those guys were the Red Sox. "With an 'X'?", you said in disbelief. This is just getting weirder and weirder you thought. Those guys in pinstripes seemed to be having a blast and everyone else in those seats seemed to care more about them. You would pick up conversations going on around you. "Rags is puttin' up goose eggs", said a guy behind you. "That kid playing firstbase better start hitting", said another guy over to your left.

"Grandma when are we goign home?", you said after about half-way through. "We will leave when you hear the New York song" she said. "Fine", you said, chomping on yet another pretzle.
After a while you start to understand what was happening. The guys in pinstripes go to the unsquare base, swing a stick at a ball and run around the square bases. When they get tired, they let the other guys in gray try. Again, those guys don't seem to be having as much fun and no one in the entire place cares about those guys. You probably learned a ton of curse words that day. But you also learned that the guy that everyone was rooting for was named Righetti...and all you could think about was spaghetti...but you were just seven. You learned that when everyone gets up out of there seat one row at a time it's called a 'wave'. You thought it was the coolest thing! You would later learn, it isn't.

You learned what an 'inning' was and that one simpe bit of knowledge was the key to your single most important question..."when do we go home?!!!". You figured this out with the help of Grandma and the people around you. Everyone was hoping that he, Dave Righetti (you still chuckle and thought 'Spaghetti') could keep 'this' going until the 9th. You got happier because the big board over there said '7th' and even you knew that '9' was only a little ways away.

The cheers were getting louder with each 'out' ( a term you picked up between the 7th and 8th).
You were starting to realize that something special was happening. That Righetti guy is making those guys who can't spell 'socks' look like fools — wich to you was a given because those guys can't spell! "Do you want another pretzle", Grandma asked. "SHOOSH!...uhhh I mean, no thank you Grandma". You were just as interested in this game as everyone else in that ballpark.

The ninth inning came and everyone was on there feet...which stunk for you because now you could barely see anything. The cheers were deafening. So you covered your ears, but you could not look away. One out, and the ground beneath you trembled. Two outs, the rumble rumbled longer than the first. "This Boggs guy is a tough one" said the guy behind you. You could sense the hint of fear that this special game could all of a sudden become not so special. But the other thing you learned is that when you have two 'strikes' and you swing and miss one more time it is a 'strikeout'. So that's what you hoped for...one of those crazy strikeouts. Yeah, you and everyone else in that place. Righetti let go of the ball. It hurdled towards the guy with the round glove and funny armor. HE MISSED IT! STRIKE THREE! The crowd went insane! All the guys wearing pinstripes came runing towards Righetti. "Can you believe that! He threw a No-Hitter!", Grandma said. Just as she said that, you heard the music start, it was in fact time to go, but no one seemed to want to leave. That did not bother you one bit.

You and grandma made your way out of the stadium. You were tired from sitting in the sun all day watching this crazy baseball game. You headed towards the train station and the music faded with every step."Hey grandma, when are we going to the see next no-hitter baseball game?" you asked. She laughed. You had no idea that no only did you just see a rare accomplishment before you very eyes, you also just experienced you first baseball game at Yankee Stadium. "I don't know" she said, "maybe next week? with a chuckle. "Ok" you said while adjusting your cap. You did not really get it at the time, but little did you know you were hooked for life.