Before they blow it up ...

Wouldn't you know it, in the midst of my involuntary sarcastic wise cracks about Jason Giambi's facial hair and all things Yankee on Sunday night, I actually got a little emotional about the closing of Yankee Stadium.

Not tears-in-my-eyes emotional, necessarily, but certainly a little melancholy. Perhaps I've softened with the playing field between the Sox and Yankees a little more level and with a few more years of life under my belt, but instead of screaming obscenities about A-Rod I found myself coming back to the same question in my head:

What if it was Fenway?

The fact of the matter is, there's history in those halls. Whether it's history I care to relive or not, it's still there. It means a lot to a lot of people, and that was obvious and tangible Sunday night. I even found myself admitting that I don't hate Derek Jeter - it would be so much easier if I did - and allowing myself to agree that he's a fairly classy individual. (Don't worry, I still think he has a smug Yankee face and root against him any chance I get - I just don't think I can hate him).

But back to my original point: What if it was Fenway? I know for a fact that whether I was one of the lucky few to be in the seats for the stadium farewell or if I was just watching it on TV, I'd be blubbering like a little baby. Fenway is something of a Holy Grail to those in the Boston area: it's an uncomfortable, rickety, ancient structure that I'd probably move into if they'd let me. Baltimore fans can have cup holders and seats that actually face the field of play - I'll take tiny wooden chairs with chipped blue paint and a weight-bearing pole in my face any day.

And that's why I understood Sunday night. Yankee Stadium is to Yankee Fans what Fenway is to us - the be-all end-all of baseball stadiums, the only place that isn't your couch that you really want to watch a game from. I imagine walking out the gate that final time would be one of those moments where you want to stop and tie your shoe or drop your keys or do anything to linger for another five seconds. I probably would have had to walk out backwards just to take in the whole scene one last time.

I never went to Yankee Stadium, and that sort of bums me out, too. I would have loved to be the villain in a Sox hat just one time in the enemy's den. But even having never stepped foot inside the stadium, I felt more than a little nostalgiac Sunday night. Watching Derek Jeter jog off to a rousing ovation before watching Mariano Rivera fire the final pitch in the building, I couldn't help but think it was all pretty fitting.

So farewell, Yankee Stadium. From residents of one hallowed baseball hall to another, we feel your pain.