Space age Yankee Stadium a trek to next generation
Ballpark seats with teak arms? Separate entrances and bathrooms? Concierge service? Dammit, pro sports are supposed to be democratic! Or something! Insert bitter rant about "rich corporation people ruining sports" here.
About 13 seconds later, after we proceeded into the so-called Great Hall, I started mentally filling out a Bank of America job application. Holy temple of awesome. Big (around 1.6 times the square footage of its predecessor, even with a few thousand fewer seats).
Shiny (lotsa glass and chrome). Bright (the old Yankee Stadium, mystique-y and aura-tastic as it may have been, was perpetually caked in grime). If this is the future of the stadium experience, I humbly request to be teleported to next April. You can have your quaint ivy walls and forbidding monsters of green; me, I'll take the laser beam turbo rocket ship.
We made our way through the concourse, dodging construction workers and delighting in their spirited discourse about [crude anatomical characterization] and [explicit act of sexual congress that may or may not be legal].
First up was the super-super-lounge, an enormous two-floor chamber soon to feature bars, multiple serving stations and -- get this -- tablecloths. Later we'd visit the higher-deck super-lounge, which, while not quite as appropriate for christenings or jazz recitals, nonetheless affords superior field views. Both areas will eventually be wallpapered with flat-screen TVs. Neither screams "ball yard" so much as "Marriott in downtown Indianapolis," but they're nice if you're into that sort of thing.
The tour continued with a descent into the stadium's nether regions and shortcut through the oval-shaped Yankee clubhouse (nearly as big as a regulation basketball court) and the adjacent bathroom (nearly as big as the old Yankee clubhouse).
Most impressive was the water park, which consisted of a hot tub vast enough to house every last Kardashian and an exercise pool equipped with underwater cameras (for exercise physiologists? for pervs? hard to tell). And then we walked through the tunnel into the cruise ship of a dugout, and exploded out onto the field.
This, not the steakhouses or the Hard Rock Cafes or the post offices or the arboretums, is why the new Yankee Stadium will make hard-core, old-time, middle-tax-bracket fans very, very happy. Yes, there are modern flourishes, like the monstrous video screen and the obligatory center-field outdoor café dealie. But mostly the new field is the old field.
The dimensions remain the same, save for the elimination of chunks of foul territory around home plate and the first- and third-base lines (this won't thrill the pitchers, I imagine). Most important, the upper decks still hang tightly and imposingly over the field. If I felt somewhat claustrophobic beneath their shadows on a quiet November morning, I can only imagine how intimidated opposing players might feel on a boisterous October night.
The seats my tush would inhabit? Not yet in place, as they're too nice to be exposed to the winter elements. Following their installation, they'll be covered with a tarp whenever Mother Nature has the audacity to act out.
And that was that. I accompanied my guide back to the old building and thanked him for his time. All salespeople should be so low-key and informative.
As I walked back toward the subway, I found myself flirting with the idea of putting down a deposit. I could sell a few organs, maybe, or perhaps even get a job. I spent the next few hours fantasizing about Opening Day and babbling to my dad about attending a game early next season ("... and we're gonna have hot dogs, and it's gonna be awesome, and the Yankees are gonna be awesome, and the giant video screen might actually show replays that aren't favorable to the Yankees for the first time ever, and the teak armrests will feel like calcified pillows beneath our weary elbows, and ...").
Alas, I returned to my computer on Monday morning to find an e-mail awaiting me from my guide. The note contained the usual pleasantries and directed me to an attached file for more information. It was there that the Yankees dropped the hammer: the seats cost $550. That's per ticket per game, not per month or per season. For a 20-game plan, that's 22 grand for a pair.
I love my team irrationally. I love attending ball games. I don't love them that much.
Still, it was way neat to get a chance to case the joint before winter rolled in, even if I only got through the door due to some shoddy e-marketing.
Too, it was comforting to learn that the new Yankee Stadium won't be a cold, futuristic mall/park hybrid. I'll sit where I always sat, pee with the masses, extend my Gehrig-like streak of accidentally soiling myself with mustard. And I can't wait.
