Farewell!

Last night, as you know, was the last baseball game played at Rosenblatt stadium. My daughter had been mentioning it for a couple of weeks in advance, that it would be fun to attend. I had my reservations. First, I didn't really want to spend money that we should be saving, or applying to bills, or buying consumables. Second, I didn't want to battle the crowds and search for parking half of the game. And finally, the Royals aren't leaving Omaha, just leaving Rosenblatt, so I can still go see a game whenever my other obligations mentioned previously, are met. At the last minute, a friend called with four free tickets. So the game was a 'go'! I phoned another friend, and him, myself, and my kids ventured out to the ball park. Amazingly enough, we found parking rather quickly, and didn't have to walk all that far. Plus, it was public land, so parking was no charge. I immediately thought, "I need to remember this parking space for next time". Ooops, there isn't going to be a 'next time'. So we get in the gates, get our drinking privileges wrist band, turn, and get into the $1 beer line. It happened to be $1 beer night. So far, very 'econo'. Then the traffic jam! We arrived a little late, probably the end of the first inning, and it took us until the bottom of the fourth inning to get to our seats. "Forget about going to the bathroom kids"! We were enjoying the game, but my interest was directed to the surrounding people, and observing their reaction to the reality that was setting in. 'We're at the last baseball game to ever be played at Rosenblatt'! It was a night of reminiscence, awkward elation over the Royals actually winning, and sadness pulling at the heart strings. The 'diamond on the hill', which has been an iconic Omaha landmark, was soon to go down in history, only to be remembered in Cooperstown, NY, at the Baseball Hall of Fame, and the moments etched into our memories of great baseball games, and baseball players. I know it's just a game, but baseball is an American pasttime, and when that pasttime has been welcoming folks from across the country for 60 years, it's definitely going to change the complexion of Omaha and the way others now view the entrance to our city. It's going to appear we're missing a tooth or something that obvious. Following the game, on the big screen, they had commentary from baseball players who came through Omaha, they had long time season ticket holders, grounds crew members who've worked there from the age of 14 on, and, of course, Steve Rosenblatt, the son of Johnny. Fireworks followed, but prior to that, I turn to my children, and they're both crying. Now keep in mind, we haven't visited Rosenblatt all that regularly, but apparently, just enough to have a lasting effect on my children. They've been to the zoo next door quite a bit, and it was always brought to our attention from our kids, 'There's Rosenblatt stadium where they play baseball', with a sense of pride in their voice. I guess, what would seem to have been a landmark of permanence in their lives, is becoming a harsh reality that it won't be there anymore. Thus the emotional moment. The fireworks were a hit as usual, then ... it was over. The crowd, as it was exiting, just seemed to shuffle along, nobody in a hurry to leave, soaking in the final moments of nostalgia. People had smiles on their faces, but the smile just held back the tears welling up in their eyes. I witnessed that on several people. The mascots were standing at the entrance, accommodating all who wanted their picture taken. We took advantage of their availability, and the kids hugged Casey as I snapped a picture. Then we walked away. As we're heading to the car, my friend and I expressed our gratitude for actually making the effort to go. I thought, "I'm ashamed that I was not even considering going to the game". It was a wonderful evening. I was happy, sad, but most of all, proud to be a part of the whole experience of partaking in the making of Omaha history.