Time stand still: Walking through Monument Garden

(First appeared in The Baldwin Times for Gulf Coast Media, May 8, 2026)

A view from the seats before the first pitch of Atlanta’s game April 26 against the Philadelphia Phillies. (Wayne Smith photo)

By Wayne Smith

Gulf Coast Media Contributor

“America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers… but baseball has marked the time.”— "Field of Dreams"

There are places in a ballpark where the game slows down a little. Where time stands still.

At Yankee Stadium, it’s Monument Park. At Boston’s Fenway Park, the entire ballpark feels like a time capsule.

At Truist Park — home to the Atlanta Braves — that place is Monument Garden.

You walk through there and it’s not really about innings or score anymore. It’s about time.

I made that walk April 26 before the game, one that saw the Braves beat the Phillies behind Chris Sale’s pitching and Matt Olson’s bat.

My son, Alex, was off to the Clubhouse Store. We weren’t together in that moment, but we would be soon. That’s how it goes now.

There was a time when his mom or I carried him into games like this. Found our seats, kept him entertained, made a day of it without thinking too much about how quickly those days might pass.

Now we meet up inside instead.

The roles have shifted. I’m the old man now. He’s the young man — with a family of his own.

But the reason we’re at the ballpark remains the same.

For me and Alex, there is no better game than baseball. And hitting a ball coming in at speeds of 100 mph or more is the hardest thing to do in sports, bar none.

In Monument Garden, you’re surrounded by reminders of what lasts.

The statue of Hank Aaron stands there in mid-swing, steady as ever. Behind him, the numbers — 3, 6, 10, 21, 29 — etched into the wall, each one carrying its own story.

And then there are the words from Aaron, on a wall beneath the statue:

“What you do with your life and how you do it is not only a reflection on you, but on your family…”

Hank Aaron’s statue stands at the center of Monument Garden at Truist Park, a reminder of greatness measured over time.

That one makes you stop. It stays with you.

I thought about all those games over the years. The routines. The conversations. The simple act of showing up together, whether at a remote youth field in North Alabama or at a Major League ballpark.

And how those are the things that last.

There’s a World Series trophy in a case along the way, holding the Braves’ championships from 1995 and 2021. Fans gather, take pictures, move on. I paused for a second, then kept walking.

The game was still ahead.

We found our seats a few minutes before first pitch. The field was being prepped, lines touched up, everything in its place. Fans filtering in. That familiar rhythm settling over the ballpark.

And then the game started.

A line drive came back at pitcher Chris Sale in the second inning — hard enough to do damage. He got his glove up, caught it, and moved on.

No show. No pause.

A few minutes later, he struck out five straight.

That’s baseball, too. Stay in it. Keep going.

We sat there together, watching it unfold. Not like it used to be — but not that far off either. Still just father and son at the ballpark.

That’s the best part.

The Braves won that day, and they ended April with baseball’s best record.

Baseball gives us something to talk about, especially when other words may be difficult. And his career as a graphic designer is tied to the game.

Baseball has taken us to fields across North Alabama, back when he was playing — through cold practices in February and March, the early days of spring. I never wanted to miss one of his games. Or my daughter’s. I didn’t want to miss a practice.

As an adult, our love for the game took us on what could be considered a kind of nirvana for baseball fans. In the summer of 2018, we went to Cooperstown to see Chipper Jones inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame. We made it a trifecta with trips to Yankee Stadium and Fenway Park.

Back to "Field of Dreams," there’s another moment that always brings a tear or two — the scene where Ray realizes he’s seeing his father as a young man and asks him if he wants to “have a catch.”

I can’t tell you how many times Alex and I had a catch in the backyard. And we still do, every now and then — maybe on the beach, or in his backyard now.

Time stand still.

But on this last Sunday of April, we were back at Truist Park.

We talked later that week about it being unfortunate that we didn’t get a picture together inside the ballpark. I regret that.

But the more I think about it, we didn’t really need one.

I know exactly where we were.

Wayne Smith has worked as a writer and editor at newspapers across Alabama, Florida and South Carolina. His weekly column focuses on navigating Gulf Shores alone after losing his wife to cancer, and the places he discovers and the people he meets. Read his previous columns at www.GulfCoastMedia.com. Contact him at wwsmith6410@gmail.com.

Some of the Braves’ retired numbers line the wall inside Monument Garden at Truist Park.

Wayne Smith and his son, Alex, at Yankee Stadium in 2018—one of many stops along a shared baseball journey.