07/23/2026
If you’ve known me for any length of time, you know I’m usually the guy making jokes, flipping burgers, behind the bar, or running around like my hair’s on fire trying to keep something from breaking.
I’m not usually the guy writing emotional letters.
But this one deserves it.
When we opened Stadium 34 in 2021, I had a dream. It wasn’t just to open another restaurant. I wanted to create a place where everyone felt welcome. A place where families could celebrate, friends could catch up, strangers could become regulars, and everyone could leave just a little happier than when they walked in.
Some days we absolutely nailed it.
Other days… well… if you waited a little too long for your food, thanks for pretending it built character.
The truth is, owning a restaurant has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It’s also been one of the most rewarding.
I’ve celebrated birthdays with you. Watched kids grow up. Seen first dates become engagements. Cheered on hometown teams. Heard stories that made me laugh until my stomach hurt and others that reminded me how important community really is.
That’s something money can never buy.
Closing Stadium 34 isn’t what I wanted.
If determination alone paid the bills, we’d probably be adding a second location instead of saying goodbye.
But the reality is that rising costs, shrinking margins, and the struggle to find reliable staffing have finally caught up with us. We gave it everything we had because this community deserved our very best.
While I’m heartbroken that this chapter is ending, I’m incredibly proud of what we built together.
To every customer who chose us over somewhere else…
Thank you.
To every employee who gave their time, energy, sweat, and heart…
Thank you.
To every person who shared one of our Facebook posts, recommended us to a friend, brought in family from out of town, or simply kept coming back…
Thank you.
You helped turn a building into something much bigger.
People often say restaurants are about food.
I don’t believe that.
Restaurants are about people.
The food just gives us an excuse to gather.
As I lock these doors for the last time, I won’t remember how many burgers we sold or how many baskets of fries went out.
I’ll remember the people.
I’ll remember your stories.
I’ll remember your laughter.
I’ll remember your support.
And I’ll carry all of that with me into whatever comes next.
So, from the bottom of my heart…
Thank you for believing in me.
Thank you for believing in Stadium 34.
Thank you for letting us be part of Red Oak’s story.
This isn’t the ending I wanted, but I hope it’s remembered as a chapter filled with good food, good people, and a whole lot of heart.
And if we made your day just a little bit better—even once—then every long day, every late night, every stressful moment, and every crazy idea was worth it.
