United. Together groups of diverse ethnicities, cultures, and upbringings, cheered as one when a Yankee Great, no THE Yankee Great, slowly strolled to a small white box in which he would swing his bat. The epic milestone that this legend could quite possibly surpass would become the highlight, of his already illustrious career. Upon the mound, stood one David Price, a man who was clearly beyond determined to not give up the legendary Hit. Price slowly took in air, a seemingly endless breath, trying to calm himself, a zen master. His long leg lifted in the air at a sharp ninety degree angle, came down once more, let go… The batter persevering through this lengthy at-bat gritted his teeth and swung…
The Stadium stood serenely among the constant stream of activity in New York. The thousands of cars that slowly maneuvered around the Stadium to their unknown destination, were there today as they have been for many years. A sweltering sun was in the process of rising over the people of the Bronx. The first thing I had noticed as I stepped the hard asphalt of the roof of a tan concrete parking garage and gazed out upon the residents and visitors alike, was the immense population that seemed contained in so small a space. Obvious foreigners were completely overwhelmed, in their traditional Asian robes, and surrounded by what is commonly thought of as a stereotypical New York. Long, dark, baggy, jeans, contrasted against the several gold chains hanging down from their necks. These stereotypes, were attempting to sell cold bottled water, as well as cheap Yankees merchandise. A tug on my arm from my father, interrupted my thoughts as he hurriedly pulled me away from the ledge and out of the exit of the parking lot.
Minutes later we emerged from the parking garage only to join the mile long line into the Stadium, although the long was deceivingly long, as it took approximately ten minutes to pass through security. The aforementioned line could have been the length of all the roads in the world combined, and I still would have waited for just a glimpse of the inside of Yankee Stadium.
This new stadium had just recently been constructed next to the House that Ruth Built. For my father and I it was our first game inside of this relatively new ballpark. The architects did a masterful job with it. For the outside, a dull gray concrete, was incomparable to what the ballpark hid within. To my right were tens of vendors selling programs and hats and towels and more. Behind these were pictures of Yankee legends ranging from Babe Ruth to Mariano Rivera. The pictures from the present were grayed a bit to blend in with the background. To my left was the Yankee lounge, two bronze statues, of model baseball players were situated in front of clear glass doors. Directly next to that, sat a 15 by 5 foot Yankee piggy bank,smothered with a variety of different Yankee logos. The centerpiece of it all sat in well, the center. The architects had constructed the Stadium so that the newcomer was awestruck at the amazing view seen. The soft, perfectly cut grass, (not turf), and the hard dirt of the infield.
“This is incredible,” my father gasped. “To think we might actually get a chance to see Derek’s [Jeter] 3,000th hit here.”
“ I shook my head in disbelief, “This stadium seems so clean-it’s weird.”
“It won’t stay that way for long,” my father joked.
Our conversation ended, we silently made our way to our superb seats. Section 131. Seats 2 and 3. They were as my dad said, “remarkable.”
The game we had long awaited, soon began. The aforementioned zen master, David Price, threw the first pitch. Derek Jeter received a standing ovation from all of the crowd-young or old. The Captain, Derek Jeter, earned this ovation as he hit, hit number 2,999 on the second pitch of the bat. A strong single down the right field line, this smack was rewarded with an incomparably loud scream. Fans screamed for at least five minutes until either their voices gave out or they calmed down.
The next at-bats seemed almost boring to that exciting at-bat. The game kept moving, at an extremely slow pace, (not that I didn’t enjoy it for I was having the time of my life). Price shutdown the other batters until the Great came up.
A dead silence fell over the crowd. A dropped pin may have been heard. In this spectacular third inning, the audience seemed to be levitating, everyone was standing as high as they could, (tiptoes). Nine quick pitches were thrown. Derek Jeter, fouling them off, or taking them. This led to a 3-2 count. The pitch that rocked the Yankee world was soon to come. I could feel it. Price once again lifted his leg and stared down the soon-to-be Hall of Famer, hoping to make him slightly nervous. It didn’t work. The crowd, was nearly dying with anticipation, as they waited for the pitch. Price threw it. Derek Jeter gritted his teeth, focused his eyes upon the ball, and swung. The ball seemed to move in slow motion as it glided high above those assembled. It dropped directly in front of the yellow and black Armitron clock. Derek Jeter became only the second man to ever hit a homerun on his 3,000th hit. The fanatics screamed, uttered a shout so loud, I will never hear something as loud as that ever again. My father, tears streaming down his face, lifted me up into the air. We high-fived and hugged the fans around us. We were bonded sports fans, my father and I. This moment is and will always be everlasting.
