As is perhaps obvious enough to anyone who remembers my earlier reflections on the ends of eras, I’m far less troubled by the Yankees’ elimination from the playoff hunt than I am moved by the closing of the great stadium to which I owe so many memories. It’s actually rather eerie to think of taking my children to see the Yankees host a game somewhere else – I imagine what I’d do is let them check out the plot where the cathedral once stood and then shepherd them off to watch the game in a restaurant. In any case, though, my disgust with the team is likely to persist until the course that Buster Olney charts here has been more fully reversed. I take it that this is how dynasties are supposed to end: fading quietly into the autumn night, with mystique and aura nowhere to be found.

Filed under: sports