A lot of great memories of the stadium, and depressing memories.
My first year out of college, five friends and I bought four season tickets. We had a draft, where we got to each select one game ticket per round, and then traded them back and forth. Great fun.
The aluminum seats were miserable. They were way too close together. You'd start in seat 18, and then, when the crowd jumped up and sat down, you'd be in seat 19. Then back to 17. If you left to get food or go to the bathroom, your spot would be squeezed out. Each time you sat down you were elbowing for space.
I remember a cold game, sloshing into those under-the-stadium urinal lines and seeing a guy passed out in the bathroom, in the grey-brown slush, face down. That takes some dedicated drinking, to say, hey, this looks like a nice place for a nap.
I remember a Jets game in 1986. After the game, the Sox AL Championship game against the Angels was on. Maybe 10,000, maybe 20,000 fans stayed to watch the game on TV's powered by car batteries in the parking lots. That was the Dave Henderson, Donnie Moore game. By the fourth inning or so, stadium security was riding around in vans announcing that the stadium was closing two hours after the game. Right. It was a beautiful fall afternoon. When Henderson hit that home run, thousands of cars started honking their horns across the parking lots. What a great day.
There used to be fights every game, all across the stadium. Fans would get into it, and a section would turn into a giant pit, flailing at each other. Then another section. Then another. Eventually the Krafts just started ejecting anyone who fought, permanently. However, that fan group was wild. Nothing like the current group. Just screaming for four hours. Before the game. During the game. After the game. It was a long, loud roar. And because we were all jammed into such a small space, it was deafening. Now the stadium is twice the size, with the same number of seats, open end zone and thousands of luxury box seats behind glass, without all the guys who have lost their tickets for behavior or cost. And not just men. There were four women who sat two rows in front of us who brutally cursed the opposing team and fans from start to finish.
I remember that Bledsoe game against Minnesota, huge comeback. That fog playoff game against Jacksonville, where you couldn't see the other side of the stadium and had to await the reaction of the fans on the other side to know what was happening.
We loved Tatupu. We didn't like Eason. We were up and down on Fryar.
Lot of memories.