Yankee Stadium Quotes

And I’ve been trying everything I can think of since to make up for it—short of tattooing her name on my ass and streaking across Yankee Stadium.” I was saving that for next week.

Apparently she was beyond words so she pushed the card into his hands. He looked down. Blinked. Blinked again before stumbling back into a chair. Did he just wet himself? Ah, who cared? He was holding four tickets to the Yankees vs. Red Sox at Yankee Stadium for this Friday and they were without a doubt the best seats in the stadium. His eyes shifted from Haley to the tickets and back again before he made a split second decision and made a run for it. He didn’t make it five feet before his little grasshopper tackled him to the ground and ripped the card from his hands. He spit grass out of his mouth. “Fine. You can come with me I guess,” he said, earning a knee to the ribs.

Yankee Stadium is my favorite stadium; I'm not going to lie to you. There's a certain feel you get in Yankee Stadium.

One thing led to another. That was the only way to explain how Arnold Brinkman, who considered both professional sports and young children unjustifiable, had ended up at Yankee Stadium with a nine-year-old boy.

A doorman opened the door for me and I went in. The lobby was not quite as big as the Yankee Stadium. It was floored with a pale blue carpet with sponge rubber underneath. It was so soft it made me want to lie down and roll.

Yankee Stadium, it’s like everything else in this country. In Europe, they save all their old buildings for history. Here, we just tear them all down.

When I arrived home from Boston, I realized there were no pictures on my mantel. I set down my suitcase and walked into the living room and looked across to the fireplace, and it felt empty. Empty of real stories. I went to my bedroom where the bed was made, and on my desk there were no pictures in frames and on the end tables there were no pictures. There was a framed picture of Yankee Stadium above the toilet in the bathroom, and there was some art I’d picked up in my travels, but there was little evidence of an actual character living an actual life. My home felt like a stage on which props had been set for a face story rather than a place where a person lived an actual human narrative. It’s an odd feeling to be awakened from a life of fantasy. You stand there looking at a bare mantel and the house gets an eerie feel, as though it were haunted by a kind of nothingness, an absence of something that could have been, an absence of people who could have been living here, interacting with me, forcing me out of my daydreams. I stood for a while and heard the voices of children who didn’t exist and felt the tender touch of a wife who wanted me to listen to her. I felt, at once, the absent glory of a life that could have been.

Here’s how you practice shrieking like an insane woman who has been locked in an attic for a great many years: You stand in the middle of the field. You look around to be sure that no one is going to hear you. You breathe in a couple of times to get as much air in your chest as you can. You stretch your neck up like the Great Esquimaux Curlew. You imagine that it’s Game Seven of the World Series and it’s the bottom of the ninth and Joe Pepitone is rounding third base and the throw is coming in and the catcher has his glove up waiting for the ball and Joe Pepitone is probably going to be out and the game will be over and the Yankees will lose. Then you let out your shriek, because that’s how everyone in Yankee Stadium would be shrieking right then. That’s how you practice shrieking like an insane woman who has been locked in an attic for a great many years. And you keep doing it over and over again until all the birds in Marysville have flown away.

A young man munching Fritos from a gigantic bag told Larry conversationally that he was going to fulfill a lifetime ambition. He was going to Yankee Stadium, run around the outfield naked, and then masturbate on home plate. “Chance of a lifetime, man,” he told Larry, winked with both eyes, and then wandered off, eating Fritos.

It’s as if the Sox have walked through the Stadium driving stakes through every single ghost’s, vampire’s and Yankee fan’s rotten, cobwebby heart.

Loomis, the longest-tenured Time, Inc., employee, still worked at the magazine while I was researching this book, and when I asked her about Cobb, with whom she’d also gone on a second date to an old-timers game at Yankee Stadium, she directed me toward a memoir she’d written in which she described him as “smart and gentlemanly.” He’d been deeply impressed, she said, with her knowledge of baseball.

them up when the other team had a runner on third. By the time the Yankees came to town—this was going on to the end of April—the whole stadium would flush orange when the Bombers had a runner on third, which they did often in that series. Because the Yankees kicked the living shit out of us and took over first place. It was no fault of the kid’s; he hit in every game and tagged out Bill Skowron between home and third when the lug got caught in a rundown.

The fact is that what scientists call zoonotic disease was little known in the Americas. By contrast, swine, mainstays of European agriculture, transmit anthrax, brucellosis, leptospirosis, trichinosis, and tuberculosis. Pigs breed exuberantly and can pass diseases to deer and turkeys, which then can infect people. Only a few of De Soto’s pigs would have had to wander off to contaminate the forest. The calamity wreaked by the De Soto expedition, Ramenofsky and Galloway argued, extended across the whole Southeast. The societies of the Caddo, on the Texas-Arkansas border, and the Coosa, in western Georgia, both disintegrated soon after. The Caddo had a taste for monumental architecture: public plazas, ceremonial platforms, mausoleums. After De Soto’s army left the Caddo stopped erecting community centers and began digging community cemeteries. Between the visits of De Soto and La Salle, according to Timothy K. Perttula, an archaeological consultant in Austin, Texas, the Caddoan population fell from about 200,000 to about 8,500—a drop of nearly 96 percent. In the eighteenth century, the tally shrank further, to 1,400. An equivalent loss today would reduce the population of New York City to 56,000, not enough to fill Yankee Stadium. “That’s one reason whites think of Indians as nomadic hunters,” Russell Thornton, an anthropologist at the University of California at Los Angeles, said to me. “Everything else—all the heavily populated urbanized societies—was wiped out.

For a hitter, there’s no thrill quite like a late inning, game-changing home run. Unless, that is, the shot is called back. On July 24, 1983, Kansas City superstar George Brett was riding high after hitting a two-out, two-run homer in Yankee Stadium. The future Hall of Famer’s blast changed a 4–3 ninth inning deficit into a 5–4 Royals lead. The joy soon faded, though, when New York manager Billy Martin asked home plate umpire Tim McClelland to inspect Brett’s bat. Earlier in the season, Yankee third baseman Graig Nettles had noticed that Brett seemed to use more pine tar than the rules allowed—and Martin had saved that choice information for just such a moment as this. McClelland measured the goo on Brett’s bat, finding it exceeded the eighteen inches allowed. Brett was called out, erasing the home run and giving the Yankees a 4–3 victory. The Royals were incensed by the ruling, which was later overturned by American League president Lee McPhail, who said “games should be won and lost on the playing field—not through technicalities of the rules.” Baseball’s official acknowledgment of the “bigger picture” is reminiscent of Jesus’ approach to God’s laws. Arguing with hypocritical Pharisees, Jesus once said, “You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former” (Matthew 23:23). Our concern for the letter of the law should be balanced by an equal concern for the spirit of the law. If you’re inclined to spiritual pickiness, don’t forget the “more important matters.

He was fat. He was not very good looking. He didn’t play up to the press. But he tried. Boy did he try. I could still see him stretching from first to third on a single to center and belly-whopping into the bag, invariably safe. I related to Thurman. I had been a catcher in Little League, I was chunky, I played tough, and I too was pretty ugly. I always took Thurm’s side in arguments, and somehow I could feel what he was going through in that Yankee dugout, sensing his fear and dislike for Reggie (Jackson). I understood Thurman Munson’s terribly private ordeal, trying to simply play ball without wanting to be on the cover of a magazine, avoiding the fanfare in a town that breathes glamour and ignores dedication. His death signifies to me how difficult life really is, how hard it is to do what you want, to love and maintain your family and still do your job. The American dream drags onward….

it died away, Stu said: “This wasn’t on the agenda, but I wonder if we could start by singing the National Anthem. I guess you folks remember the words and the tune.” There was that ruffling, shuffling sound of people getting to their feet. Another pause as everyone waited for someone else to start. Then a girl’s sweet voice rose in the air, solo for only the first three syllables: “Oh, say can—” It was Frannie’s voice, but for a moment it seemed to Larry to be underlaid by another voice, his own, and the place was not Boulder but upstate Vermont and the day was July 4, the Republic was two hundred and fourteen years old, and Rita lay dead in the tent behind him, her mouth filled with green puke and a bottle of pills in her stiffening hand. A chill of gooseflesh passed over him and suddenly he felt that they were being watched, watched by something that could, in the words of that old song by The Who, see for miles and miles and miles. Something awful and dark and alien. For just a moment he felt an urge to run from this place, just run and never stop. This was no game they were playing here. This was serious business; killing business. Maybe worse. Then other voices joined in. “—can you see, by the dawn’s early light,” and Lucy was singing, holding his hand, crying again, and others were crying, most of them were crying, crying for what was lost and bitter, the runaway American dream, chrome-wheeled, fuel-injected, and stepping out over the line, and suddenly his memory was not of Rita, dead in the tent, but of he and his mother at Yankee Stadium—it was September 29, the Yankees were only a game and a half behind the Red Sox, and all things were still possible. There were fifty-five thousand people in the Stadium, all standing, the players in the field with their caps over their hearts, Guidry on the mound, Rickey Henderson was standing in deep left field (“—by the twilight’s last gleaming—”), and the light-standards were on in the purple gloaming, moths and night-fliers banging softly against them, and New York was around them, teeming, city of night and light. Larry joined the singing too, and when it was done and the applause rolled out once more, he was crying a bit himself. Rita was gone. Alice Underwood was gone. New York was gone. America was gone. Even if they could defeat Randall Flagg, whatever they might make would never be the same as that world of dark streets and bright dreams.

Fans will also notice another link to the Bronx - the field's dimensions are an exact replica of Yankee Stadium, measuring 318 feet down the left-field line, 408 feet to center field, and 314 feet down the right field line.

Speaking of baseball, a small group of Nautilus crew members arrived during a game at Yankee Stadium. Even though the famous slugger Mickey Mantle was at bat, the crowd stood and gave the submariners a standing ovation.

E. coli is a digestive workhorse in humans and can come in many different “flavors” or variants, one of which can’t naturally digest lactose, a sugar derived from milk. Nothing is a bigger threat—or evolutionary pressure—to bacteria than starvation. So Cairns deprived milk-shunning E. coli of any food except lactose. Much more rapidly than chance should have allowed, bacteria developed mutations that allowed them to lose their lactose intolerance. Just as McClintock maintained about her corn plants, Cairns also reported that bacteria appeared to target specific areas of their genome—areas where mutations were most likely to be advantageous. Cairns concluded that the bacteria were “choosing” which mutations to go after and then passing on their acquired ability to digest lactose to successive generations of bacteria. In a statement that amounted to evolutionary heresy, he wrote that E. coli “can choose which mutation they should produce” and may “have a mechanism for the inheritance of acquired characteristics.” He straight-out raised the possibility of inherited acquired traits; he basically used those words. It was like shouting, “Go Sox” at Yankee Stadium during the ninth inning of the seventh game of the playoff s—with Boston leading by a run. Since then, researchers have plunged into their petri dishes in attempts to prove, disprove, or just explain Cairns’s work. A year after Cairns’s report came out, Barry Hall, a scientist at the University of Rochester, suggested that the bacteria’s ability to happen upon a lactose-processing adaptation rapidly was caused by a massive increase in the mutation rate. Hall called this “hypermutation”—sort of like mutation on steroids—and, according to him, it helped the bacteria to produce the mutations they needed to survive about 100 million times faster than the mutations otherwise would have been produced.

That’s what led George to Yogi’s museum in New Jersey in 1999 to apologize in person. It’s the same feeling that led Yogi, a man who had vowed never to return to Yankee Stadium so long as George owned the team, to accept George’s apology. Together they made plans for a grand return, a Yogi Berra Day that July. Before the game, Don Larsen, the Yankees pitcher who threw the first perfect game in Yankees history, during the 1956 World Series with Yogi behind the plate, tossed the ceremonial first pitch to Yogi. A few hours later David Cone finished another perfect game, the third in the team’s history. As if we needed another sign that all was right in the world.

Bburke used to, whenever he went to the city to catch a Yankees game, throw his money around to every homeless man on the street, feeling it was the right thing to do; except one time he did that and he got to the stadium and realized he didn’t have enough money for the Bud Light tall boy he always got during the third inning. And in him he felt an unyielding rise of contempt for the himself of only hours ago, that he was something and now is something and that they aren’t the same somethings. But that the change was Barmecidal and it was just him, this moneyless and beerless man in the bleachers. Man made in God’s image, yet some men are homeless and some are beerless, and there must be this big bearded guy miles and miles in the sky who doesn’t have a home and can’t even catch a buzz.

Sometimes I underestimate the magnitude of me." - Reggie Jackson, after hitting three home runs on three consecutive pitches at Yankee Stadium to win the 1977 World Series.

Subway Series is a series of baseball games between two New York City teams, since fans can reach the stadiums via subway trains. The first Subway Series were played as World Series games. For example, the Yankees played the New York Giants in 1921, and the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1941. More recently, the Mets and the Yankees have been playing Subway Series games during the regular season. They typically play groups of two or three games at each team’s stadium. The Mets and the Yankees competed in a World Series Subway Series in 2000, and the Yankees won in five games.

11: Marilyn and DiMaggio attend an opening day baseball game at Yankee Stadium. Marilyn is photographed watching the action.

which leads to the Bronx. You can get to Yankee Stadium that way, although other routes are better.

never forget that lady. TRACY MORGAN: You know when I first saw Lorne Michaels? I was working at Yankee Stadium, before I got into show business. It’s where I met my wife fourteen years ago. I used to see Lorne Michaels go in Gate 4 every day. I was selling T-shirts and all that. I was a vendor at Yankee Stadium. Now look where I’m at. It was so ironic that I met Lorne Michaels like that. And now years later, he’s my boss and I’m working on his show. I didn’t know him. I was a kid from the ghetto, trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents.

    5.  Unfair to Animals                    6.  Unfair to Muledom THE HALF-PENNANT PORCH Finley was obsessed with the Yankees and attributed their success to the short distance to the right field fence in Yankee Stadium. He believed sluggers who batted left-handed, like Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, and Roger Maris, had an unfair advantage. The fence was the sole reason the Yankees were winners. Before the 1964 season, Finley sought to create his own advantage. He moved his right field fence so that it was 296 feet from home plate and called it his “Pennant Porch.” The commissioner forced Finley to change it to 325 feet.

I want you to know a few things,” George said. “First of all, I didn’t think that interview was that bad. Second, what happened tonight at the stadium doesn’t represent the way the New York Yankees organization feels about you. It doesn’t represent my feelings. You are always welcome at Yankee Stadium. And don’t worry about that player and what he said tonight. He won’t be around here much longer.” He continued. “If we are fortunate enough to win this series—and I’m very cautious about counting on anything before it happens—there will not be a single Yankee who will act inappropriately during the trophy presentation. Every New York Yankee from Joe Torre on down will treat you with respect and courtesy. You have my word. You’ve done a great job for a long time. I will stand beside you for the entire ceremony.

New York City is supplied by a collection of nineteen reservoirs. Together, they cover an area nearly twice the size of Rhode Island. We’re talking 580 billion gallons of water. In one day alone, New York City consumes enough water to fill ten Yankee Stadiums.

In 1986, Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan sponsored a law banning the use of tax-free bonds to finance stadiums, exactly the financing being used by the Yankees and the Mets. So how did Steinbrenner and the Mets owners get around that law? How did they manage to benefit from triple tax-free municipal bonds that add to the burdens of federal, state, and city taxpayers? First, the Yankees and the Mets will not pay rent on their new stadiums, which the city will own. If they paid rent, the Moynihan law would prohibit the sale of tax-exempt bonds to finance the stadiums. But since the stadium bonds must be paid for, where will the money come from?

I lacked diplomacy and would not compromise. To survive in the future I would have to learn the complex art of ass-kissing, that honorable American custom that makes the world go ’round. Survival is the most important thing. As a bona fide ass-kisser, I might lose a measure of self-respect, but I could be teaching and helping kids. As it is, I have enough self-respect to fertilize Yankee Stadium, but I am not doing a thing for anybody. I could probably still be with the Yamacraw kids had I conquered my ego.

The series moved back down to Yankee Stadium for Game 6, where Schilling would get a second chance to make 55,000 Yankees fans shut up, but first there was the serious matter of the torn tendon in his right ankle.

Also shipped to the Norman coast were ten miles of floating piers and pierheads, with telescoping legs to rise and subside with the tide. In all, two million tons of construction materials went into the Mulberries, including seventeen times more concrete than had been poured for Yankee Stadium in the 1920s.

In February of 1921, the Yankees purchased 10 acres of property from the estate of William Waldorf Astoria at 161st St and River Ave in the west Bronx, directly across the Harlem River from the Polo Grounds. Yankees owner Rupert and Tillinghast Huston announced the construction of baseball's first triple-decked structure. With a capacity of over 70,000, it would also be the first structure to be called a "stadium.

Baseball is just a game. But like religion, it has rituals. I need rituals. I need traditions. I need something to believe in, whether I worship in a church or a stadium. I believe in the Yankees and then divorced them and came all the way back to believing in them again, and what I have learned, if anything, is this: My belief, my faith, transcends individual players and is deeper than the outcome of any game, any season. It is unshakable.

After De Soto’s army left the Caddo stopped erecting community centers and began digging community cemeteries. Between the visits of De Soto and La Salle, according to Timothy K. Perttula, an archaeological consultant in Austin, Texas, the Caddoan population fell from about 200,000 to about 8,500—a drop of nearly 96 percent. In the eighteenth century, the tally shrank further, to 1,400. An equivalent loss today would reduce the population of New York City to 56,000, not enough to fill Yankee Stadium