The Stadium
I hold my Dad's hand tightly as we wend our way through the streets teeming with fans. We follow a snaking line to a ticket booth, where my Dad asks for "the two best tickets you got." I look up at the looming Stadium, with its enormous, fortress like walls. Then inside, crossing through cavernous spaces filled with sounds of hawking vendors and smells of grilled hot dogs. We climb up crowded, darkened passageways, until finally we emerge into the blinding sunlight. Before us stretches the dazzling green grass, the silky brown infield dirt. We reach our seats, sit down, and wait for the game to begin.
I returned to the old Stadium many decades later, photographing it in the years before and while it was being torn down. Recapturing what it looked and felt like to that ten year old boy.