A DEFINING YANKEE MOMENT FOR ME & MY GRANDFATHER

One of the best things about living in New York City, besides the Yankees, is that on any given day, on any given street, you can run into a celebrity. Once, about three years ago, I saw Chris Noth walking by while I was sitting in a pizzeria in the city. That's just the way New York is... it's pretty darn awesome.

When I was young, my grandfather used to watch baseball games with me. As early as four, he would sit with me, watching the Yankees and explaining certain parts of the game to me. We didn't have much, by ways of money. We made ends meet, and my grandparents always made sure I had what I needed. Sometimes, my grandfather would take me out to the city with him. If I was really lucky, we'd go to the Bronx.

It was those trips to the Bronx I loved most. He was like a kid on Christmas morning just looking at the old stadium. He would rattle off names of players that had walked the same streets we did on their way into the ballpark. It was a kind of magic for me. Watching this man who raised me, and who I absolutely adored, seem as childlike as I was made me happy and had a strange calming effect on me.

On one particular day in 1998, my grandfather was determined to see his favorite current Yankee, Bernie Williams. We made the trip from Flatbush, Brooklyn to the Bronx on the D train early. We grabbed some pizza from one of the shops on 161st St and took up our position near the players entrance, and waited. I remember the look on my grandfathers face when he spotted Bernie. Pure joy. We weren't close enough that he had the opportunity to speak to him, but he called out his name. Bernie turned and waved at him. And he was complete. We went to the game that day. I couldn't tell you if they won or lost. My grandfather was so contend that there was like a zen feeling enveloping us. We were an impenetrable bubble of happiness. We took the train home in silence. I think he was taking it all it.

My grandfather got sick soon after that. He never made it out to the Bronx with me again. He'd always mention that moment to me. For as long as I could remember I was a Yankee fan. But that moment... that one moment when a grown man became a child for a split second. That moment when he became complete in his respect and adoration for another man. That was the moment that defined me as a fan.

These men that put on the Yankees uniform for 162 games, they are part of such a vast history. Not just the history of the team, but the history of us fans. Of the times where we sat with our fathers, mother, uncles, aunts or siblings to watch games. Those few stolen moments of bonding we had with a friend or family member. Those moments that live infinitely in our memories and hearts. That moment between a little girl and the grandfather she absolutely loved.

--Erica Morales, BYB Writer
Twitter: @e_morales1804

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