Yankees – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

QR Codes, Clean Bowls, and Hopes for a Trophy

From Camp “Willies” to the Elston Howard Field Throne

If you know me, you knew it was only a matter of time before I wrote a post about the willy. If you went to certain camps, you know what a willy is. If not, let me explain. A willy is the camp latrine. If you camped in the Brooklyn sites, you called the latrine the “willy.” If you were in the Queens sites, you called it the “Larry.” The other boroughs generally called it the willy.

My site had the last tip pan willy. That’s a classic, semi-automated plumbing system designed for heavy-use, multi-seat seasonal environments like mid-century military installations and summer camps. It was a five-seater with a trough for peeing. At the time, it was an all-boys camp. Some people spent their summers on their seats. One seat was blue and reserved for someone. These days, the camp has regular bathrooms. Boring.

A Holy Place and a New Free Throne

I recently did a photo shoot at Yankee Stadium. To me, it is one of the holiest places in the world. I hope we take home #28. After getting off the 4 subway line, I walked toward Macombs Dam Park and the bathroom. As I entered the park, I noticed a new free public restroom. I was at the Stadium about a week ago. The only outdoor lavatory facilities were in the adjacent parks.

My eyes lit up. It said free throne. All you had to do was scan the QR code on the door, and it would magically open. It said you had a ten-minute limit. With excitement, I opened the camera on my iPhone and scanned. A text arrived: “Send this message to the Elston Howard Field Throne.” The field in the park is named after one of our great catchers and the first Black person to don the pinstripes. I immediately clicked send. All of a sudden, the door started opening, and it welcomed me.

Is There Anything Better?

I have never seen a public restroom this clean. A urinal sat to the right—a small sink in the middle. The bowl was to the left. Rules were taped to the wall, and hand towels sat to the right of the urinal. When you were done, you could type “EXIT” on your phone. Or wave your hand in front of the door’s sensor. Either way, the door opens. Is there anything better? Other than watching the team hoist the trophy at the end of the pending World Series, probably not.

A parks employee was hanging out nearby. He smiled at me and said, “What’d ‘ya think?” I said, “Incredible.” But how will it survive during the playoffs and next season? How will they keep it clean? Will people try to flip it over? That’s possible. We chatted for several minutes about how people might be pigs. Especially fans coming in from out of town. Time will tell.

A Typical NYC Transit Disaster

4 Subway Station at 161 Street Yankee Stadium

I was so happy. I often get to the stadium at least four hours before game time. I walk around and pray. The park bathrooms leave much to be desired.

I did my photo shoot and took a look at the park toilets. They are the standard parks department bathrooms. Use your imagination. I completed my shoot. Now the train ride to the Stadium was a typical NYC Transit disaster. We sat between 86th Street and 125th Street for nearly 25 minutes. Then it chugged along until it reached 161st Yankee Stadium.

I did drink some water during my shoot. But I knew of my new friend not terribly far from the subway station. The same guy was hanging there. He smiled, and we said, “We need to win.”

The Aaron Judge Paradox: Can a Generational Titan Cost You Rings?

Individual MVPs vs. Championship Grit: Why the Yankees’ biggest star leaves the Bronx yearning for the days of “The Warrior.”

Would the Yankees Be Better Without Aaron Judge? I know this is controversial. Rings have always measured the Yankee dynasty. Not individual MVPs. We know Judge has three. Our former captain, Derek Jeter, had none. But he has five rings. He led in the style of many of his predecessors: Mattingly (Donnie Baseball), Munson, Randolph, and the best of them, the Iron Horse (Lou Gehrig), led the team with class and grace. All but Donnie Baseball have multiple rings.

Given a choice of right fielders of who I’d rather have at the plate or in the batter’s box in pressure situations, Paul “The Warrior” O’Neill or Judge, who do I put in? It is a no-brainer—the Warrior. Judge can fill up everyone’s cups with water from the water cooler before The Warrior destroys it.

The Soul of the Bronx Zoo

I became a fan when I was quite young during the so-called “Bronx Zoo” years of the Yankees, when #1 Billy Martin was managing them. We had all sorts of craziness—the words between Mr. October (Reggie Jackson) and Thurman Munson. Martin pulling people out of games and the fights. But we won. Then came Torre and Girardi. More rings.

The teams had heart and soul. Enter Judge. No question he is an amazing player. He has his moments. But he’s missed so much time. I remember during his rookie year (2017), when he won Rookie of the Year by a unanimous vote and should have been MVP (F Altuve, the cheater), I was in my sister’s pool. I was debating with her father-in-law whether he was the real deal. He was all about Judge. I was like, let’s see if he’s a flash in the pan. He said no. I said time will tell. He’s not. He has helped win games. In some seasons when he was healthy, we’ve won about 10 more games than when he was out.

Since 2017, he has missed 22 percent of all regular season games. This year he’s missing the Wild Card Series vs. Boston. Except for 2023, the Bronx Bombers have made the playoffs every year he was injured. [1]

The October Problem

His postseason record is pathetic. We all remember the 2024 World Series, when he dropped the ball at Yankee Stadium in the only game we were ahead. If we won, we would have had another game to face the Dodgers. But his error allowed Los Angeles to take the lead and the trophy.

The legends of the past—Ruth, Gehrig, Lazzeri, DiMaggio, Mantle, Berra, Rizutto, Munson, Jackson, Jeter, O’Neill, Posada, Martinez—were monsters at the plate and in the field during the regular season. They stepped it up in the postseason. Bear in mind, many on this list went straight from the regular season to the World Series. I wish we still followed old-school ball.

Searching for Grit

Judge, on the other hand, is a generational titan during the regular season. But has struggled at the plate and on the field in the postseason. But talent alone doesn’t parade down the Canyon of Heroes.

In terms of pure grit and intensity, The Warrior is the man. I remember years ago, way before Judge, I was at a singles night and met a woman. The first three things she told me were that she’s divorced and in love with Paul O’Neill (she played RF and wore his number (21) on her school’s girls softball team) and Harrison Ford. Not a bad mix: the Warrior, Han Solo, Indiana Jones, and now a shrink. She may have known more about O’Neill than he knew about himself. LOL. But the point is he was a gamer. He famously played through injuries. We know Mantle and Gehrig did. That’s the toughness I wish today’s players still exhibited.

Judge is a great player. But we need to find better. Tough, that is. But eyes need to be open. Let’s see where we go without him, whether we make the next round, and whether he plays and has Jeter moments.

I am lucky I got to see so many Hall of Famers play for the Yankees and lead us to the World Series trophy. Today’s generation isn’t as lucky. Share your thoughts.

I Got a Ticket. Not a Ticket to Ride.

The other day, I got a ticket. No, it wasn’t a speeding or parking ticket. Or one for not properly placing my trash cans at the curb. I don’t have to do that. I have the joy of an incinerator. I visit it many times a day. My grandfather would be proud. I did not get a ticket to ride.

I was at Lincoln Center for a photo shoot with my wide-angle lens. Before shooting, I went to the Metropolitan Opera House and bought a ticket for “Tosca.” I went to Vivian Beaumont Theater and purchased tickets for “A Few Good Men.” I finished my shopping by entering David Geffen Hall and renewing my New York Philharmonic subscription. I will be attending several concerts.

At David Geffen Hall, the ticket clerk looked up my email address (they did that at the opera house, too) and asked me what shows I wanted. I picked a few and tapped my iPhone to pay. I said, will my tickets be in my account? He said, yes or do you want paper tickets? I thought for a minute and asked which is better. Mind you, I have been a subscriber for about a decade and always had electronic tickets. You know, you download them, save them in your Apple Wallet, and scan them in at the theater.

Lincoln Center Theaters and Revson Fountain

He then said, “It does not make a difference. Do you like electronic things, or do you prefer paper?” I love electronic stuff. I said, paper. He printed them and stuffed them into an envelope. Keep in mind, at Beaumont and the opera house, they handed me paper tickets immediately. I didn’t get a choice.

As I was thinking about my e v. paper tickets. I was blasted back to the old days. Remember when we used to call Ticketmaster and wait on hold for what seemed like hours for tickets for The Cure, Depeche Mode, Yankee-Red Sox games, and U2? Sure, you do. Eventually you spoke to an agent, gave them your credit card number, and were told they’d mail your tickets. Of course, there was a fee for that – Standard postage or more for FedEx. For Broadway theater, I often went to the box office and got paper tickets.

Then the day came when you walked into the Garden, the Stadium, or the Nederlander. The person at the door tore your ticket, gave you the stub, and you went to your seat. You waited and hopefully made it to the top of the ninth with the Yankees ahead, heard “Enter Sandman,” watched Mariano save the game, and walked to the subway to “New York, New York.” Or you saw Robert Smith come out and sit in the dark while he played for nearly three hours. Fun times.

We are still doing that. But now they scan your phone, and you hope it works. The other day for a Yankees-Red Sox game, I had to scan the ticket many times until I got in. I did. We lost. I was back the next day; we won 16-1. The day we lost, I headed to Radio City Music Hall after the game, scanned my ticket, and suddenly, I was “Up the Junction”—in other words, I saw Squeeze.

To me, it doesn’t matter how I enter the venue. I just wanna be in. But I must admit there is something magical about the paper ticket. I always keep them. I have journals with tickets from my first Yankee games back in the day when number 1, Billy Martin, was managing, and from seeing The Cure in the 80s. And of course, “Rent” with the original cast.

There was something special about looking at that ticket. When I look at them in my Apple Wallet, it is not as special. I am just happy the transfer from AXS or Ticketmaster processed.

Talk to ‘ya after “Tosca.”

Yankee Stadium and Tradition

What Happens as You Get Older and Things Cause You to Update?

I follow a lot of traditions. Most are the ones I created myself. I created the first ones at the original Yankee Stadium, when I was 7. I have kept them wholeheartedly. I am very strict. But what happens when things in your life change? Do you keep the tradition, or do you update it to fit your needs?

So here it is. When I exit the 4 subway station, I go down the same flight of stairs and use only one of two turnstiles to exit. I alternate turnstiles at each game. Yes, I remember from the previous one. These days I walk through the park where the original stadium was situated.

Once I am in the Stadium there is much work to do. Before the first inning ends, I must eat a hot dog with mustard, a potato product, and finish a Pepsi. As for the potato product, a knish ranks at the top. But chips or fries will do. Not every stand sells knishes. That’s a shame. The kosher ones do. They are delicious. In the fifth inning, you need to eat peanuts. I never finish the bag. I have a bunch at the top and bottom of the fifth. I bring the bag home and finish. Often, I hand it to one of the people experiencing homelessness outside the stadium.

Current Stadium and Park Where the Old One Lived

Any flavor of ice cream is required in the sixth inning. It can be in a Yankee helmet cup, cone, regular cup, or an ice cream sandwich. Not enough vendors sell ice cream. The lines at the ones that do are too long. I usually go in the middle of the fifth to make sure I have it by the sixth. As for the brand, I am hoping for Good Humor, Mrs. Fields, or Häagen-Dazs. I will not get Ben & Jerry’s. That ice cream is disgusting. You are better off skipping it, and speaking of skipping it. Sometimes you must. It is not unusual for the machines to break down or they run out. That’s not my fault.

Once the 7^th inning starts, I can eat or drink whatever I want. They no longer sell beer after the 7^th inning. Once, I had one in the 7^th. I went with my cousins, and they bought me one for that inning. Anyway, the beer in Stan’s across the street from the real House that Ruth built is cheaper, and they have a better selection. Plus, Stan’s is like Cheers.

Over the last decade, probably longer, I have had less and less soda. It is not good for you because of the sugar, and it can irritate your bladder. As someone who has had four kidney stones, I am careful. Soda is at the top of the list of no-nos. Spinach is up there. But I have never seen it at the Stadium. I do miss both.

So, what to do? I buy the Pepsi and take a sip or two, and somehow it falls and spills on me. Or spills into the sink in the bathroom. I am too clean to let it spill on the floor in the stands. Sadly, too many people do. Water is the best thing to drink for bladder health. Heck, we all know it is the healthiest thing to drink. I have added water to my beverage mix. I sometimes drink it before the 7^th inning. I do not want to dehydrate. I do wish to overhydrate. I have had that problem.

So, as long as I follow as closely as possible, with minor medical adjustments, I believe I am staying within my traditions. By the way, when the game is over, I exit via a certain stairway and try to enter the 4 subway station through a specific entrance. However, I am not beholden to that.

Holy Places. The Places that Make You Feel at Peace.

Yankee Stadium, Coney Island, Ten Mile River Scout Camps and the Kotel

We all have places we visit that calm, energize, and bring peace and a sense of reason. They change over the years. Some get stronger. Some weaker. Some you eliminate.

For me, the top places include Yankee Stadium, Coney Island, Ten Mile River Scout Camps (TMR) and the Kotel (Western Wall). For the record, all of Israel does it and so do a few other camps. But TMR is at the top of the list.

How does this work? Well, it is different in each case. For example, as the 4 subway line pulls into 161^st – Yankee Stadium, I feel a certain charge. I stand up as it approaches the station and stand by the exit door. I always go down the same stairwell and alternate between two turnstiles, depending on which one I exit from. Then you see greatness – The Stadium. Yes, the original Stadium was far superior and brought a deeper feeling. But the new one has its merits and is growing on me. It has been since day one. I look at it in awe. And all is right with the world. I take a walk to the hallowed grounds where the original one sat and say a few prayers to win the World Series. Hasn’t happened in a while. Too long. But I try.

After I go through security and enter this holy building, I am ready. Of course, as the game goes on and if we start losing, the happy feelings turn to despair. But I keep coming back, ready for victory and the joy it brings.

When I get off the train at Stillwell Avenue and see the lifeguard chair in the station as I am walking towards Nathan’s Famous and the boardwalk, I feel this excitement. You never know what the day will bring. I see the Cyclone, the Wonder Wheel, and in the distance the holy waters where the Coney Island Polar Bears swim, and during the regular season families go and spend their day(s) enjoying the beach. Who says the winter isn’t the regular season? Many think it is. I do.

Walking along the boardwalk and seeing all the characters and the little kids hoping they are tall enough for the Cyclone makes you feel all is right with the world. I usually go straight to the Cyclone and ride it several times. Then I decide on my next ride. I always walk along the beach and let the sand pile up in my sneakers. I head over to the Wonder Wheel and play some games. I win lots of toys. Then the time comes when you need to board the subway and head home. I look back at the beach and rides and board, knowing I had a great time and probably ran into many of my Coney pals.

I am chairman of the Ten Mile River Scout Museum. As we drive along 97, the road that leads to camp, I feel I am 12 years old again. I jump a few years into my teens and remember all the friends I made at this camp. I am still friends with many. Sadly, some, like My Leader and Uncle Funky, are at the great campsite in the sky.

I always make sure I get to the section where I spent my teen years earning merit badges, listening to great music, such as the Ramones, U2, Depeche Mode and the Clash, as well as spending lots of time in Rock Lake; it rocks. That section is now gone. Nature has taken it over. But when I am there, I channel back to the 80s and feel incredible. I still jump into the lake and hike the trails. I walk by the cement blocks that once held important buildings, such as the nature and handicraft lodges, offices and latrines. Then we get to the gate and drive back to the other sections, full of kids, great programming, and camp food. We are all smiles.

When the El Al jet lands at Ben-Gurion Airport, I feel at home. The first time I went to Israel, I didn’t feel like a tourist. I felt I was returning home. Yes, I had no idea where I was. But I didn’t feel that way. There is something about that place that makes you feel you’ve always been there. I went through security, got my luggage and got to my hotel. I have done this many times. The excitement grows each time.

I check my bags and immediately walk to the Kotel. Tears fall from my eyes as I get there and place my head against it. Yes, I stuff notes in it. Some are mine and some were given to me by others. I feel connected to the world and the higher one. Sometimes I talk to others. We all take pictures of each other to text home to Mom and others.

I spend a few days in Jerusalem and travel. I might go north to Safed or south to Eilat. The feeling never leaves me. Eventually, I wind up on Tel Aviv’s stunning beaches. I am often the first one out. I am an early riser and am often sitting on my lounge chair or in the Mediterranean Sea around 7 a.m. or 8 a.m. Walks along the boardwalk are different than walks along Coney’s boardwalk. Although sometimes they are similar. You meet lots of interesting people and partake in lots of great food and drink.

Bottom line, everyone has these places locked into their hearts and souls. I don’t know which one(s) will come next. I know the places I discussed will always remain at the top.

Thank You, NYC Transit

Most New Yorkers get around via NYC Transit. Be it our “timely” buses or our ever “timely” and “clean” subways. We should not forget the Staten Island Railway. That’s like a trolley from yesteryear. But hey, today’s subway systems seem to be on that track. What track it is on no one really knows. It is unlikely we will ever know. For the record, I know all the lines. I have friends all over the USA. They often text me when they’re coming to the Big Apple and ask for train advice. I coach them as best as I can. But ‘ya never know.

Annadale Station – Staten Island Railway

Each time you ride, you can probably write a story. You need to take in the salespeople, preachers, drunks, crazies, tourists, and the performers. Today, I will focus on the quality of the service. No need to talk about the cleanliness of the stations, the trains, and the restrooms. That’s for another time.

Once I was on the R going to Cortlandt Street – World Trade. After City Hall, they just ran the train right to DeKalb Avenue. They didn’t tell us. Eventually it pulled into DeKalb. The tourists asked me what they should do. They were hoping to go to Ground Zero. I said we have to go to the Manhattan-bound platform and hope it goes there. Heck, we were at DeKalb. I should have just said, go to Junior’s, get a delicious burger, and a piece of its award-winning cheesecake.

Once I was going to see Paul McCartney at Yankee Stadium, I got on the D train. It is supposed to run to the Stadium when there are ballgames and other events, such as concerts. A packed train flew right by the Stadium and, unlike a cutter by Mariano, missed the strike zone. In other words, it didn’t stop. The conductor sheepishly announced that they forgot to program the train to stop at 161^st. He told us to get off two stops later and take the Manhattan-bound train to the Stadium.

Another time at the Stadium after a Yankees-Red Sox game, the station was packed beyond belief. The NYPD let everyone know they forgot to add the extra service they usually do during games. They were trying to catch up.

NYPD Boat – I know it is not an image of an officer at the subway station. But NYC Transit would not know the difference

Another day, I wanted to take the Queens-bound R to Queens. It wasn’t running. I figured I’d get an F. I went to the station and paid. They said the F wasn’t running. But they were running the E (a train that the Board of Health should condemn) through that station. But it may not go to the stop I wanted. The F wound up running through. I asked the conductor if that train was going where I needed to go. She said, “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. Get on my train.” I did. It worked.

For a moment, let’s jump the Long Island Railroad (LIRR). A week or so ago, I saw Joe Jackson at the Beacon. I wanted to take the 2 or 3 from 72^nd to Times Square to get the E. The E was out of service. I could have walked over to the F. Or take the LIRR at Penn Station. Mind you, due to construction that has been going on for years at the Forest Hills Station, only the first four cars open when it pulls in. When will it be finished? Why ask? You know.

I got into what looked like the first car. I asked the conductor if I was in the right car. He said my train is stopping at Forest Hills. I asked again whether this car would open. He didn’t know. He never scanned my ticket. That happens on all the trains that have that payment procedure. I experienced that in Berlin, too. I always buy one. I am not willing to take the risk. But it does feel like I was wasting money. Or not. Honestly needs to count for something.

Then there are the nights that after games or concerts at the Garden several of the subway lines in Penn Station aren’t running and you have to walk to Herald Square or elsewhere. I have had interesting experiences on NJ Transit, PATH – Path to where is what you should ask and Metro North.

Despite all of this, it’s our way to get around and helps make NYC what it is. Keep riding.

I Can’t Sing. I Will Never Pretend I Can

Years ago, I was in Durham and on the phone with my dad. I let him know I landed and was at my hotel. Even at my age, I have to let my parents know where I am. Sadly, my dad’s been gone for over a decade. Maybe he knows.

Anyway, I said, “You know I used to sound like John Lennon. Now I sound like Paul McCartney.” He retorted, “You make all the young girls cry.” He didn’t mean I sing like Barry Manilow. He meant my voice would make anyone cry. He’s right.

Sure, I wish I had the voice of Bono, Ian Curtis, David Gahan, Peter Murphy, Robert Smith, or the Moz. Oh, and the two Beatles I mentioned. They were gifted. There are many others in my boat. Far too many. But sadly, some of them think they can sing. I attend many events where we sing by the campfire or as part of our religious services. There was a guy there who used to like to sing and dance. He often said he was shocked that people didn’t recruit him from Lincoln Center to sing at the opera house or in the other theaters.

What do I do? I sing along or use their time up there as the time for a bathroom break. Some of them sing fast. Some drag it out. What should take 3-5 minutes turns into 45 minutes. That’s a lot of time in the bathroom. But it also gives you time to run over to the kitchen and get tea.

But then there are the personalities. The opera star had none. Some of the others are wonderful people. Some retired. Some working. They mean well. They want to sing. I still want to pitch for the Yankees. I blame my mother for never signing with the Bronx Bombers. That’s really a joke. Steinbrenner would have never signed me. Rightfully so. But these days, I might play and be better than whom Hal and Cash have signed.

How do I pick which “concert” I attend? There are places I go where those leading can carry a tune. But they are not friendly. In some cases, they are downright nasty and mean. I used to alternate. I recently decided I’d rather let my ears suffer with poor singing, as opposed to suffering unfriendliness.

What Does the Venue Think?

By Mitchell Slepian

Last night, I saw Paul Simon at the Forest Hills Tennis Stadium. A few days ago, I was at Yankee Stadium. Just before that, I saw Lenny Kaye in the Loft at City Winery, Human League with Soft Cell and Alison Moyet at Radio City Music Hall, and Kim Deal at Pier 17. Future shows will be at the Beacon and Garden. Speaking of the Garden, we all know Taylor Swift married there on July 3.

Paul Simon at Forest Hills Tennis Stadium

All shows brought their expected crowds. We had the aging hippies, the artsy and all-black-wearing new wave and goth crowds, and, of course, those of us decked out from head to toe in our NY Yankees apparel. It didn’t help. They embarrassed themselves by allowing the Twins to pound them. Seems to be a trend. George and the Stick must be rolling around in their graves.

Many of us have felt the Garden shake during performances by The Who or felt connected to Bono. We’ve come to a new understanding of the world while listening to the top-notch songwriting and skills of the Cure and Depeche Mode. We ached that Siouxsie Sioux only did a few shows and did not come to NYC.

But did you ever wonder what the arena feels like? We know what the Stadium feels. It wants the Yankees to bring home that trophy. It’s been far too long. Sure, these venues are concrete and steel. But do they have feelings? Do they have a sense of what’s happening inside them? Does the Garden ever say to Radio City Music Hall, I wish the Human League were on my stage? I doubt the Stadium talks to Fenway Park. They hate each other. Or maybe they complain about the fans or certain players?

Forest Hills Tennis must have been happy to have its local Forest Hills High School boy, Paul Simon, performing at its arena. Although the schoolyard in “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard” is never officially named. Per the lyrics, it is in Corona. I have been to the schoolyards; it is believed to be. As I was listening to him perform it, I wondered how many people in the venue had ever traveled to the yards he meant. What does that schoolyard think?

Do the venues have favorite artists? Do they prefer the classic rock, goth, or pop crowds? Does it give off feelings that enhance or hurt the show? Does it get excited when one band does three or four nights? I saw Billy Joel’s residency at Madison Square Garden a few times. Does the Garden kick back into Billy’s coming tonight, and will we have his awesome crows? What does it think when Robert Smith takes the stage with the Cure, and they play in darkness vs. the more top 40 shows that light up the place? Does it prefer bands that really honed their craft to those that are marketing projects created to sell tickets and push downloads? Maybe I need to ask it. It might laugh at me. Or whisper back its thoughts.

Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas?

What About Other Holidays?

By Mitchell Slepian

For years, people have debated whether it is more appropriate to say “Merry Christmas,” “Happy Chanukah,” or the more general “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings.” Hallmark once produced simpler cards for that purpose, and e-card companies do the same today.

Every year, I send Chanukah cards to people I know who celebrate it and other holiday cards to those who do not. I make all my cards myself, using my own photos and high-quality printing from Printique by Adorama. I do this for a few other holidays as well, and I also send the cards by email.

Yesterday was Father’s Day. Someone I had never met wished me a happy Father’s Day. I chair a committee for one of the organizations I belong to, and he was running an event. A few months ago, he texted to ask whether my committee would participate. We exchanged information, and I attended. I had a great time, although the event chair did not show up. I had not heard from him in a while, but I expected to hear from him about a future event. I would want my crew to be there because the exposure is valuable.

Early this morning, I glanced at my iPhone and saw his “Happy Father’s Day” text. I do not have children and probably never will. My father passed away in April of 2014. I do not think I saw him on Father’s Day the year before. Maybe. He lived in Florida. I am in NYC. Sometimes I flew down, or he flew up.

Anyway, why would someone who doesn’t know me wish me a Happy Father’s Day? Yes, he friended me on Facebook. Perhaps he looked at my posts. The last time I posted was the summer of 2020. I was zooming with a friend. She was lounging in her bed with her dogs. I posted the screenshot. If you looked at my posts from six years ago, it is obvious I do not have kids. All my friends post pictures of important moments with their children. For example, graduations, becoming an Eagle Scout, being the lead in a school show, or winning a sports competition.

To me, his text made no sense. It annoyed me. I have always erred on the side of being politically correct during holidays so as not to insult anyone. But never thought Father’s Day would fall into that. I always wish my mother and grandmother a Happy Mother’s Day and extend my wishes to a few aunts and a friend or two whose kids I am close to. But I know they are celebrating. I don’t consider this a winter holiday when you may not know what someone celebrates. Maybe they celebrate Festivus? I figured Father’s Day is easier. Either you’re a dad, or you’re not. Or your dad is around, and you should be wishing him a great day.

So, what did I do for Father’s Day? I did something I never did; I went to the cemetery and visited my father and all my relatives nearby. I did some grocery shopping and sadly watched the Yankees lose.

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.

Final look at watch at its resting place

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.