I remember the New York Yankees in distant yesteryears before free agents, avarice, cynicism, narcissism, and George Steinbrenner set in. Going to Yankee stadium then meant going to the legendary (if grossly inaccurate) “House That Ruth Built.” But then that house grew old (1976) and was newly refurbished until the newly refurbished house also grew old (2008) and was abandoned; the team, having attained the heights of celestial ostentatiousness, moving into a new “cathedral” across the road.
However, even though Yankees fans can no longer see the old house(s) and team that I once knew, they can now see the new cathedral and team that I no longer have any use for. What’s more, they can get there the way that I, in days of old, used to get there: via aged Lo-V trains, tottering holdovers from the 1920s.
[Riders] marveled over how the narrow rattan benches lining the walls seemed to provide more leg room than on modern trains, helped by the absence of poles interrupting the floor. Riders instead clutched rows of handles above, illuminated by naked white bulbs.
Though the train seemed spacious, passengers were squeezed tight by the time it reached East 86th Street, so much so that Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg, surrounded by police officers, could not even get on. (He caught a conventional No. 4 train right behind it, a spokeswoman said.)
If Micky Mantle were to be playing first base, Roger Mantle in the outfield, Whitey Ford pitching, this ride would intrigue me…hot, stuffy and as awkward as these Lo-Vs were/are. Then again, that impossibility would dispel this entire vintage-inspired daydream; a shock like that would be enough to level cathedrals of baseball.
Source: NY Times