Odd, fondness, a place of very mixed meaning

Like I hinted in another recent post, going to ball games has been something I've loved since I was wee.

But as I've maybe not hinted, I haven't followed major league baseball - or any other professional sport for at least a decade. Maybe 2. Well, maybe most of 3, really.

And yet, something really stirs when I think of the old Stadium. Nephew Jake was there Wednesday, I was there Thursday, and bro Mookie & C. were there at the very very last., and called me from the game so I'd eat my heart out, just like I called Bro from the last subway series to do the same. (Jake, young dog that he is, called so I would look for him on TV. And during the final game, nephew Justy called to find out if I know where Bro was sitting so he could look for him on the tube.)

Living up the hill from the Stadium Motor Lodge as a kid, where players would actually stay in the years before money. Dad playing softball in the fields outside the stadium. Memories of leaning around girders to see before the big renovation (when they moved the outfied fences in). I dunno. Long ago and far away, and part of me is still there, for sure.