Sweet Moment

Barring a comeback that right now stands at something like a 3000-1 shot, last night was the final baseball game ever played at Yankee Stadium. I've written about this before -- I know the park I saw was never the "real" park from before the mid-70's renovations, but it was one of my favorite places in New York City, and it was always cool to look out and realize that you were looking at the actual spot where Gehrig or Mantle (or Rivera) played. It really is time for it to go, but that doesn't mean it isn't bittersweet.

Anyway, yesterday ESPN spent the whole day broadcasting from Yankee Stadium, leading up to the last game. Starting around 7pm they had a closing ceremony in which many of the most memorable players (or members of their families) took the field for one last time in the spot where they played. I watched while I cleaned up the dishes and Andrea drove her grandmother home (she'd come over for dinner).

We were getting toward bedtime, which for Fiona always means one 11-minute (or so) cartoon before she brushes her teeth. Lots of evenings in the summer I tease her, asking if she wants to watch baseball (since I usually have a game on), and she makes a face and asks for SpongeBob or WordGirl or whatever she's into that week.

The big moment at the end of the players ceremony last night was Bernie Williams's return to the stadium for the first time since he was forced into retirement at the end of 2006. Everybody loves Bernie Williams, and even more than Derek Jeter he was the star of those late 90's championship teams. So when Bernie took the field and the stadium erupted for a full two-minute ovation, it got a little dusty in our family room. I'm sure Fiona saw me wipe a tear away.

The ceremony wasn't over yet, but the players were done being introduced, so I turned to Fiona and asked her what she wanted to watch for cuddles.

"I want to watch this," she said. "I want to watch the Yankees."

I was taken aback. "Really?" I asked.

Fiona nodded. "I want to make you happy."

And so it got a little dustier, and Fiona and I snuggled together on the sofa while I pointed out some of the players (Scott Brosius, Dave Winfield, Whitey Ford) and told her about all of the amazing things that had happened inside the stadium, how no team had ever won so much as this team had won in this place.

Babe Ruth's now 92-year-old daughter threw out the first pitch, and I told her a bit about the Babe (she liked the name, of course), and then it was time for the game itself to start, which did mean time for bed. But it had been one of those moments I always hoped to have when I became a father.

Oh, and the team won and Mariano threw the last pitch, which made the whole evening perfect.