My Watch’s Funeral

May It Bring Us a World Championship from Its Final Resting Place

By Mitchell Slepian

I love watches. I haven’t given them up because of my iPhone and do not own an Apple Watch. I’d never stop looking at it. I like traditional timepieces. They are classy. I dream of a few—Breitling, Panerai, and Patek Philippe—probably more. 

At least a decade ago, my mom gave me a New York Yankees (NYY) watch as a holiday gift. She got my brother-in-law a New York Mets one. I guess a Boston Red Sox timepiece would have been worse. Sadly, my watch died.

About three weeks ago, I took it to the jewelry store thinking it needed a new battery. The jeweler is a big-time Yankee fan. Whenever I go there, we chat about the boys from ‘Da Bronx. I asked him to change the battery. He popped it open and inserted a new battery. He couldn’t set the time. He examined the watch like the trainers look at the injured players and declared it dead. 

We were both upset. He said, time for a new watch. They always try to sell me watches. They have a nice collection. They did not have any NYY or novelty watches. Just nice brands, such as Hamilton, Longines, Seiko (not Grand Seiko, another dream), and Tissot.

I texted and called my mom about the death. She understood my despair. She told me I should bury it at Yankee Stadium.

I faithfully wore this watch during many seasons. Sometimes, I wore it to the Stadium. About a year ago, I got another NYY watch. I switched between the two. I want a World Series one. That’s another story.

As the Beatles sing, “Your Mother Should Know,” she knew. I had to plan a funeral. I knew it should be conducted the next time the Red Sox were in town. A few days ago, I carried my watch in its black case. Now it’s coffin, and took it to the Stadium. I was already going to the game. As usual, I got there four or five hours before they opened the gates. 

I walked around Macombs Dam Park. That’s where the original Stadium was. I miss it dearly and wish it still stood. I used to walk by it when it was boarded up. I used to say prayers for it. I wasn’t the only one.

I got the Lou Gehrig sign, which has his famous “Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.” quote. I took the watch out of its bag and went to the baseball fields that used to be the field. I gathered up as much dirt as I could put into the bag. 

I placed the watch in front of the sign. I took a final look and sealed the coffin. I began to pray. I told it to RIP and asked the former greats, who watch over us, to welcome it. I included (George) Steinbrenner. We really need him. 

I dumped the dirt out of the bag and placed it on top of the watch’s casket. My eyes teared. I said the mourners’ kaddish, took three steps back, and walked off to Stan’s. I sat shiva for it there. I did wash as one does when leaving a cemetery.

May it RIP and bring us #28. Then I can get my World Series watch.