New York Yankees
Bronx, New York
Dear Sir or Madam,
I enjoyed my first outing to Yankee Stadium last night to see the home team beat the visiting Tampa Rays. While the weather was hot and humid during the day, the temperature seemed to drop enough by early evening to be tolerable; the ambient air was not nearly as comfortable as the Metropolitan Opera’s perfectly conditioned red velvet interior, however. In order to keep attendance up in comparison to rival city institutions, I suggest you factor this in.
I have to say, although my friend who accompanied me was surprised by my naivete when it comes to domestic beers, I also enjoyed my first Genuine Miller Draft, plastic bottle and all, a relative steal at $8.50 for 16oz. It seemed to be a recyclable container, which comes with an added safety benefit: were I to inadvertently throw the bottle onto the field, fewer people would be hurt than by the bat that was nearly hurled into the seats close to third base.
I was also impressed by the accessibility to public transportation. The B and the 4,5,6 line all stopped on the corner, adding to the feel of community as fans traveled to and from the stadium.
Speaking of the stadium, as this is the last season in the “House that Ruth Built”, I was a little disappointed by the renovations–apparently done in the 1970s–that effectively destroyed the structure’s character and charm. The plastic seating, the electronic banners, the tacky refurbished ceiling made me wonder what, apart from spirits and legends, was worth seeing. I am hopeful that the $1.3 billion of public and private money you are spending on the adjacent new stadium will provide a little more distinction. And perhaps now is not the time to question why public funds are being used to build a stadium replete with luxury boxes and marble.
I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed a $5 hot dog so much. How nice, too, that the spicy mustard came free.
And how surprised I was when, after displaying my ticket at the entrance, I was directed to another security guard who told me that my compact shoulder bag was not allowed inside, even though it clearly contained only books and paperwork. I suppose I was just confused because I saw women carrying in purses the size of my bag. Your security guard seemed almost huffy when I asked if it were true that women could carry purses in, but I couldn’t carry my shoulder bag in. “I don’t make up the rules,” with an aggressive posture really didn’t answer my question, so I rephrased it, “No, I’m asking you. Is it true that women can carry in purses?” Hearing the affirmative somehow made me feel better as I carried my bag across the street to the $5 bag check at the bowling alley. In fact, I was thankful for this opportunity as I was able to appreciate actual examples of substantial architecture.
Still, it’s puzzling that an institution that accepts public funds can so flagrantly practice gender discrimination. Maybe someday, when the old laminated stadium has been razed, we can talk this over in one of the calf-skin upholstered luxury boxes over a nice glass of pinot noir and some bruschetta, or perhaps jalapeno cheez-whiz nachos.
Very truly, a satisfied patron and fan,