Stan’s, Muthafucker.

A few years ago, I moved to the Bronx. The apartments are just bigger up there for the same price, which is still too much, and I fell for a place a very short walk from Yankee Stadium. I have since moved away from the Bronx as I have already documented on this site, but while I was there – Stan’s was the place. The day I looked at the apartment, I ended up at Stan’s for a beer, took a look around, and as Han said to Chewie, I thought to myself, “We’re home.” I actually dug the carnival atmosphere of coming home from work on a game day and I tried to get there as often as I could which is hard because Stan’s is only open on game day.

Stan’s is a sports bar. It is a Yankee bar. It is the kind of instantly recognizable place where upon entering, a little voice inside you goes, Oh I guess we’re getting fucked up today. The place smells of spilled beer and wings, which is what I hope Heaven smells like. It is packed with people celebrating being able to afford Yankee tickets and yelling over classic rock. You look at your friends and you all smile at each other because it’s too loud for unnecessary conversation and you all know that bad decisions are going to be made in here and they are going to come in the form of shots. 

 It might be the New-Yorkiest place in New York.

Stan opened Stan’s right across the street from Yankee Stadium in 1979. Stan Martucci also owns the sports memorabilia store on the same block. He bought the building, which is why Stan’s can afford to be open only on game days and the occasional soccer game which is maybe eighty days a year. Today his son and two firefighters run it – most everyone who works there has an off-duty firefighter energy going…you just know it when you feel it. Somewhere there’s a house in like, Whitestone with a batch of “gravy” on the stove waiting for these guys.

Once when I was at Stan’s, I asked the bartender if he wanted a card to keep a tab open. He said, “It’s up to you, pal.” Later the same guy would say to me. “I’m not a bartender, I’m a beer-tender.” I said, “Oh yeah?” He said, “Yeah, we don’t make a lot of Manhattan’s in here.” I can only guess what these guys make in a shift.

When they knocked down the old stadium and rebuilt it across the street in 2009, the new one was about thirty feet in the other direction and there was some concern as to whether that might hurt business. People now had to turn the opposite direction to go to the game. They had nothing to worry about. Stan’s was – and is – a destination. (The new stadium has 6,000 fewer seats. Why? Maybe because they made each seat more than an inch WIDER in the new one, so have another hot dog, fat ass.)

Last weekend I pushed the conventions of good parenting to the edge and stopped with my family for a wee one before the game. “Researching an article,” was my cover story. The nicest guy ever at the door – sleeve tats; centerfold for Fireman monthly – scrambled to get the three of us a table out on the sidewalk and with a New York accent said, “Make sure you take care of these guys okay?” to the server.  I doubt I could have taken a child inside nor would I have tried. He would surely have been trampled.

Although, Stan’s has mellowed somewhat since the old days when someone would get their ass kicked for wearing a Red Sox cap. It’s become as family friendly as the game itself. As family friendly as a bar can be, anyway. The COVID outdoor shack has expanded the fun well out onto River Avenue where the train rumbles overhead spraying a few drops of weird mystery water we tried to laugh off. A bottle of Goose Island IPA was nine bucks which is reasonable especially when you consider the same beer is fifteen inside the stadium.

Which brings me to my thesis. The best seats in Yankee Stadium are right in Stan’s. Many savvy baseball fans choose to stay at Stan’s and catch the game right there on one of roughly one hundred TV screens. You can hear the crowd from across the street, and you already have a seat and the beers are cheap(er). When the Yanks win, the whole place sings “New York, New York,” at the top of their lungs and it’s a little like religious moment for two glorious minutes.

I am just being selfish in my wish that Stan’s was open all the time – or even for away games? It must not be worth it or else they would do it. But take my advice and head to Stan’s for beers, and you will feel like you were at the game. You’ll save a few hundred dollars on those tickets too.