It occurred to me recently that soon, all I will have of Shea Stadium are my memories.
Then it occurred to me: I have a terrible memory.
So bad, in fact, that my kids wear name tags.
Therefore, part of the mission of Loge13.com is now to preserve digitally what nature doesn’t allow me to do organically. To that end, I have been snapping images of Shea that I/we can reminisce over post-2008: The Tommy Agee marker, the random drapings within the bowels of Shea and other future victims of the wrecking ball.
And if we figure out how to digitize smell between now and November, 2008, I will capture Shea’s unique scents: stale beer, burning pretzels, the burning odor emanating from Guillermo Mota meltdowns.
Here is one memory I always want to retain…
There is nothing like entering a ballpark. The crowd is buzzing. The anticipation before that night’s conquest is palpable. Great experiences are being born all around: Young kids are going to their first baseball game. Old friends are reuniting at the park. Somewhere, someone is guzzling their first cold beer of the evening, with many more to follow.
Since 1985, my family, cohorts and I have been entering Shea Stadium and heading up to the Loge level, Section 13. Here is what that experience looks like: