My Day At The Park

I visited the stadium for the first time today with high hopes.  The afternoon was perfect for baseball.  The new park exceeded my expectations.

I took my seat in the upper-deck and felt giddy.  My seat's view was as good as the old mezzanine.  All around me the crowd was in good spirits.

But there were creeping signs of shadows I should have heeded.  Coming in on the 4 train, I caught a glimpse of the old Stadium's field.  It was dry , brown, and dead.  Walking into the gates, I couldn't stop looking back at the old place.  I stopped before going in because I was captivated by the ghostly sight.  I looked around.  No one else was giving it a second look.  It was like it was already demolished.

Entering into the new Stadium all was forgotten.  It really is the best balance between function and form of any sports facility I'd ever been in, or even imagined.  What shadow?

Not long after I was in my seat I heard the gripes, and they came from all sides.  The seats behind home plate that cost the tears of our newly poor country were empty.  People were angry even in their first euphoric experience in this glorious new park that in so many ways payed more attention to them then the other park ever did.  And the bad feelings didn't go away even after Wang's scoreless first, and Tex's homer.  "Look at that " they said.  "How can they let that happen".  Those damn seats.

I stayed longer then the game deserved and walked around exploring the the new home for my favorite team.  You can go to the Mohegan Sports Bar in center and watch the game in style.  The causeways are so massive you can watch the game on field level without feeling like your back on the train.  You can even take your beer outside at Hard Rock and smoke a stoogie and get back inside.  It is an incredible stadium.

But there are no memories.  Ruth doesn't live there.  And the ball flies out like it was Citizens Bank Park.  I still enjoyed myself; kind of like I would at a wake.

So in trying to figure out what I felt about such a conflicted emotional experience, I ended up with a surprise: a haiku.  Here it is and feel free to give me the full Abu Ghraib for it. 

                                          First game at the park

                                 Doppelgangers take the mound

                                         Ghosts across the street