It is a ride I have made countless times.  And even though I am leaving the zip code where I reside, this ride has always been the  ride home.  It is the same every time.  Get onto the New Jersey Turnpike in South Jersey and head north.  It is one of  the more captivating drives in the world (to me), and it’s one I look forward to doing every chance I get.  The turnpike is a sea of rural landscapes until we pass the exit for Freehold.  This is when the transformation begins.  This is when the excitement builds and my heart begins to step up the rhythm of it’s steady beat.

We are on our way to New York City.  The Bronx to me more precise.  And for me, it is a chance to be among Yankees family.  A family which, thanks to social networking, I interact with daily.  But such is human nature, I still long to be in the presence of other fans.  To interact face to face with like minded people.  It is my chance to be a Yankee fan in my natural environment.  To finally be among the masses who are all “Rooting for the Home Team”.  My home team.  In my adopted home town.

The Turnpike splits and becomes more congested as we continue on our way.  Off in the distance, the first visible signs that we are nearing familiar surroundings begin to appear; The towering skyscrapers of lower Manhattan are rising across the horizon.  As a child, it was this view I was always most excited to see because it included the Twin Towers, which rose above all others, like a beacon calling me home.  Since 9/11, this first image of the city is greeted with a heavy heart.  And a sorrow that will never go away.

As we carry on north, the hustle & bustle of the city and it’s surrounding areas, which is what I love most about New York,  begins to make itself known.  Airplanes touchdown and take off from the runways of EWR.  Overpasses and bridges are crowded with commuters making their way into and out of the city.  The signs pass like reference points in a familiar neighborhood, Verrazano Bridge, Goethals Bridge, Holland Tunnel, Lincoln Tunnel.  The Empire State building glistens in the morning sun as the rest of Midtown Manhattan sprawls out along side of us.  This is one of my favorite views of the city.  I have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the road (Next time someone else is driving).

Midtown Manhattan disappears behind the swamps of Jersey as we exit the Turnpike.  Next stop is the George Washington Bridge and the borough of The Bronx.  The traffic slows to a crawl as Yankee fans from the Garden State  make the daily pilgrimage to the South Bronx to see their beloved Bombers.  ”Up or down?”, I ask my brother.  He is attending the game with me because my wife is home with our children who are both sick.  I have a pass because it is my birthday.  ”Up”, he replies.  ”I want a good view of the city.”.  As we approach the toll, my level of excitement builds.   While crossing the bridge, I marvel, as I always do, at how the new steel blends seamlessly with the old and dusty concrete.  It is the perfect metaphor for a city that is continually reinventing itself, and yet, always managing to retain those wonderful traditions of the past.

We exit the GWB and begin the spiral descent toward the Major Deegan.  The feeling of being home is now palpable.  We work our way to exit five.  It’s a new path, but it’s the same exit.  And it evokes the same response I had every time I came to the old Stadium that used to stand across the street.  We make the left onto Macombs Dam Bridge and are greeted by the awesome site of Yankee Stadium.  It may not have all the history of the old place.  But I still get chills every time I see it.

No matter how many times I make this walk toward the Stadium, it still gives me chills.

We park the car and join the stream of fans exiting the garage.  Immersed in a sea of Pinstripes and Navy Blue, I tell my brother how good it feels to , for once, not be the social outcast.  We cross 161st street and head toward Babe Ruth Plaza.  I am already enjoying being surrounded by my fellow fans.  As anyone knows, Yankee fans are different.  We carry our pride with a sense of purpose and tradition.  Most people mistake our confidence for arrogance.  But it is only because they don’t get it.  Today, I am a part of that nucleus.  Today, I am at the center of our universe that emanates outward from the Bronx.  This is why I say it’s like going home.  Because home is more than a place.  Home is where you live.  And it is here where a piece of me has always remained, regardless of where I go in my life.

We enter the great hall and are immediately consumed by not only the grandeur, but also, the history that is on display here.  Banners hang with vestiges of some of the greatest players the game has ever known.  Large black and white images of years gone by are prominently displayed for all to see.  A team photo from 1961, Mickey Mantle in the locker room.  Joe DiMaggio eating a bowl of spaghetti.  We forego the elevator and take the stairs to our seats so the we can soak up all that the Stadium has to offer

Beer and Garlic Fries in hand, we make our way to section 332A where our seats await us.  The field rolls into view as we approach the aisle.  It is an awesome site to behold.  I take my seat and eagerly anticipate the first pitch of the game.  We talk with fans around us.  Once again, the feeling of being home is undeniable.

The game itself lives up to expectations.  Bartolo Colon pitches seven solid innings and Curtis Granderson provides a highlight reel both with the bat and in the field.  Mark Teixeira’s terrific double play to end the game preserves the win.  As Frank Sinatra’s Theme From New York, New York blares over the PA system, we take one final tour of this grand structure.

A picture of The Yankee Clipper above our booth in Billy's Sports Bar

As we exit the Stadium we head out into the early Bronx Afternoon and head over to Billy’s Sports Bar, a favorite of mine and a place I like to take my Dad.  It is fitting that they seat us in a booth under the sweet swing of Joe DiMaggio, my all time favorite Yankee.  The place is filled with Yankee fans.  And as they pass our table, they all stop to talk about the game.  It’s like being at a Sunday Dinner with the family.

After our meal, we head back to the garage.  As we pass by Babe Ruth Plaza, I pause to take one last look at the Stadium.  It was a great day and the trek back to South Jersey will be a good one.  But as I take one more look back, I can’t help but feel that I am leaving home again.

The scoreboard proclaiming a Yankee victory on my birthday.

As we enter the Deegan I remind myself to soak up and enjoy the last remaining moments I have in New York.  Even the traffic.  As we ascend the ramp to the George Washington Bridge, the feel of camaraderie and belonging is as strong as ever.  I am already anticipating my return.  Across the bridge, the turnpike awaits.  The views of the city in the late afternoon sun are as breathtaking as ever.  Once again, I am amazed at how easy it is to feel like I belong here.

Upon my return I am greeted with a surprise.  My children (with the help of my wife) made me a birthday cake.  complete with Yankee Pinstripes and a Yankees Cap.  It was a wonderful gesture.  The kids ask if they can come with me “…to see the Yankees next year?”.  I tell them yes.  Next year we will all go.  And then one day, like me, they too will call the Bronx… Home.