You sit in the same seat in Amon G. Carter Stadium for forty years and you watch them tear down the east side, build that fancy new video board, put in club seating that costs more than my first car. My father took me to games in the old days when you could feel the bleachers shake when we got a stop on third down. You could smell the hot dogs from the grill under the stands and hear the band echo off the concrete. Now you got air conditioned suites and piped in music and kids staring at their phones during timeouts. I miss the old place where the metal benches burned your legs in September and the rain soaked through your jacket in November and you did not care because we were playing football the way it was meant to be played. The stadium is beautiful now. It is also not the same home I grew up in.