A Sunday Trip to Giants Stadium
... as if every beer has a shot of straight grain alcohol in it giving you a jolt every time you take a gulp. You can see endless horizons of blue and white jerseys as you pan across the parking lots. Your nose stings with smoke from cigars that are never put out. You don’t even bother to shower before the game, for you know the second you are in East Rutherford you will be covered in the gameday atmosphere. As you go up the escalator to the first tier of seats, you yell and slap hands in joy with people exactly like you with the exact same emotions. You rush through the tunnels leaving all the people you are with behind just to get to your seat. True Giants fans can’t miss the kickoff. You take your seat and are engulfed by the crowd around you. You take part in inebriated conversation with fellow inebriated fans around you. There is no smoking in Giants Stadium, but everyone does it anyway. There is hope and promise seen on everyone’s face, yet the Giants never win. The really drunk “fans” are always up in section 310 with fists drawn and you can always count on seeing a flock of yellow security jackets up there in the fourth quarter. Although Giants Stadium is a favorite Sunday place for a lot of fans, it has always been a special place for me. Giants Stadium has never changed since the Giants started playing there after years of playing at the Polo Grounds where the Yankees also played. The only change has been the style of the uniforms and the names sewed on the back of them. When I entered this world on December 28, 1985, I was born into a tradition. I never saw my father much since my parents separated when I was three and lived with my mother ever si...