It was so humid!
I could feel the moisture building between my skin and my clothes, and the sticky feeling was consistently in the background of my mind. It didn’t help that 56,315 screaming, cursing, frustrated Yankees fans surrounded me. They posted the game time temperature as 87 degrees on the centerfield jumbo-tron. I wanted to keep drinking to stay cool, but the bathroom line was the longest I had ever seen at the Stadium and I didn’t want to keep missing the game.
All of this on October 8, 2007.
This was just the fourth Yankees Post-Season game I had ever seen in person. It was the first Post-Season game my Old Man had ever seen live. Sitting in box 276 on the third base line, it was not only the best seat I ever had for a Yankees game, it was the Post Season! With Rudy Gulliani, Jim Leyritz, Tino Martinez, and Jeremy Shockey sitting just sections and rows from my seat, The Old Man and I were pumped to be in at Yankees Stadium for this must win game four of the 2007 American League Division Series.
The excitement of the experience, and the intensity of watching a do or die game wore off after the third pitch. Grady Sizemore the Indian centerfielder homered to lead off the game, and the Yankees never recovered.
The New York offense had been on the brink of scoring a ton of runs several times over the first five innings. Both TOM and I thought it was just a matter of time. But after the sixth inning when "Captain Clutch" Derek Sanderson Jeter grounded into a 4-6-3 inning ending double play, I could begin to feel the season slip away. Jeter has always been the type of player who performs better the bigger the game. Yet here he was grounding into his third double play in two games. The score remained 6-2 with just three innings to play. And our very best player was hurting us most.
All year the Yankees kept me on an emotional roller coaster of highs and lows. Around mid August I began expecting the unexpected every day.
“Anything is possible” is what I kept telling myself.
I had to.
I saw the Yankees dissolve a 14.5 deficit in the standings after May 29th, to just 1 game on September 19th. I saw them hold off Detroit and Seattle in the Wild Card race. I saw them win the season series from the Boston Red Sox, the best team in the American League. I saw a kid from Lincoln Nebraska pitch out of the bullpen and capture the hearts and minds of the City That Never Sleeps. I heard “MVP MVP MVP” chanted by the masses during home games in the Bronx whenever the third baseman would step into the batters box.
But after the captain grounded into the 4-6-3 double play, the possible began to seem impossible, and the impossible soon became reality.
When catcher Jorge Posada struck out on three pitches to end the game, a frenzy of incidents went into motion. Incidents that I watched first hand. First Cleveland Catcher Kelly Shoppach stood up just as home plate umpire Fieldin Culbreth signaled strike three. Shoppach pumped his fist and began slowly jogging out to the mound to met Joe Borowski. The battery began the celebration as though this was nothing more then a regular season victory. The Yankees Stadium chief audio engineer instantaneously put the song “New York New York” on the Stadium Sound System. Shoppach and Borowski were not going nuts, but they were quickly greeted by twenty-three other teammates who were. Jumping up and down the Indians began to cluster between the mound and second base. As I watched with my own eyes from less then fifty yards away, A lump began growing in my throat and soon I found it hard to swallow. A feeling like my heart was sinking directly followed. I just stared out on to the field. Standing still and somber, I was remembering things that will forever be branded into my mind. Watching our opponent celebrate on our field. Watching a series of actions play out that will lead to even greater actions playing out off the field.
I could feel the moisture building between my skin and my clothes, and the sticky feeling was consistently in the background of my mind. It didn’t help that 56,315 screaming, cursing, frustrated Yankees fans surrounded me. They posted the game time temperature as 87 degrees on the centerfield jumbo-tron. I wanted to keep drinking to stay cool, but the bathroom line was the longest I had ever seen at the Stadium and I didn’t want to keep missing the game.
All of this on October 8, 2007.
This was just the fourth Yankees Post-Season game I had ever seen in person. It was the first Post-Season game my Old Man had ever seen live. Sitting in box 276 on the third base line, it was not only the best seat I ever had for a Yankees game, it was the Post Season! With Rudy Gulliani, Jim Leyritz, Tino Martinez, and Jeremy Shockey sitting just sections and rows from my seat, The Old Man and I were pumped to be in at Yankees Stadium for this must win game four of the 2007 American League Division Series.
The excitement of the experience, and the intensity of watching a do or die game wore off after the third pitch. Grady Sizemore the Indian centerfielder homered to lead off the game, and the Yankees never recovered.
The New York offense had been on the brink of scoring a ton of runs several times over the first five innings. Both TOM and I thought it was just a matter of time. But after the sixth inning when "Captain Clutch" Derek Sanderson Jeter grounded into a 4-6-3 inning ending double play, I could begin to feel the season slip away. Jeter has always been the type of player who performs better the bigger the game. Yet here he was grounding into his third double play in two games. The score remained 6-2 with just three innings to play. And our very best player was hurting us most.
All year the Yankees kept me on an emotional roller coaster of highs and lows. Around mid August I began expecting the unexpected every day.
“Anything is possible” is what I kept telling myself.
I had to.
I saw the Yankees dissolve a 14.5 deficit in the standings after May 29th, to just 1 game on September 19th. I saw them hold off Detroit and Seattle in the Wild Card race. I saw them win the season series from the Boston Red Sox, the best team in the American League. I saw a kid from Lincoln Nebraska pitch out of the bullpen and capture the hearts and minds of the City That Never Sleeps. I heard “MVP MVP MVP” chanted by the masses during home games in the Bronx whenever the third baseman would step into the batters box.
But after the captain grounded into the 4-6-3 double play, the possible began to seem impossible, and the impossible soon became reality.
When catcher Jorge Posada struck out on three pitches to end the game, a frenzy of incidents went into motion. Incidents that I watched first hand. First Cleveland Catcher Kelly Shoppach stood up just as home plate umpire Fieldin Culbreth signaled strike three. Shoppach pumped his fist and began slowly jogging out to the mound to met Joe Borowski. The battery began the celebration as though this was nothing more then a regular season victory. The Yankees Stadium chief audio engineer instantaneously put the song “New York New York” on the Stadium Sound System. Shoppach and Borowski were not going nuts, but they were quickly greeted by twenty-three other teammates who were. Jumping up and down the Indians began to cluster between the mound and second base. As I watched with my own eyes from less then fifty yards away, A lump began growing in my throat and soon I found it hard to swallow. A feeling like my heart was sinking directly followed. I just stared out on to the field. Standing still and somber, I was remembering things that will forever be branded into my mind. Watching our opponent celebrate on our field. Watching a series of actions play out that will lead to even greater actions playing out off the field.
So bitter sweet. Yet the game, even then, is as it always is.
Perfect.
Even still as much as I love the game, the future looks grim in the Bronx. Free agents are talking of leaving the Yankees. Joe Torre is almost certainly not coming back to New York. Fans are devastated. And the Boston Red Sox (of all teams) are about to begin play in the 2007 ALCS. But this time of year is always grim. It’s always darkest just after a season ends when the dream is not fulfilled.
But this too shall pass.
Pitchers and Catchers will report to Tampa Florida in just one hundred twenty six days. And the 2008 Major League Baseball season will begin on Tuesday April first.
