What happened in last night's game was both surreal and yet
not at all surprising. We didn't need another iconic moment out of The Captain,
we have already been spoiled enough.
But yet, when David Robertson nearly pitched his way out of
New York and into a mob of pitchfork wielding fans, irate that this heir to the
great Mariano Rivera had sucked the life out of the stadium and ruined Yankee
Christmas, up from the despair came a glimmer of hope and a familiar
confidence.
The YES Network graphic showed that Derek Jeter was due to
hit third in the bottom of the 9th. The Captain would have a chance
to be a part of another miracle in the Bronx, one last time.
Jose Pirela singled. Antoan Richardson pinch ran and Brett
Gardner bunted him to second. As Ian O’Connor wisely points out, not even the ultra-competitive
Buck Showalter could make the intelligent baseball play and walk Jeter, setting
up the force.
The game meant nothing and yet, the moment meant everything.
Two innings earlier, in what we thought was the final at-bat, Jeter reached on
a throwing error, but picked up the go-ahead RBI in the process. It wasn’t the
dramatic moment we were waiting for, but it would have been OK.
I recall quite vividly the day of hit number 3,000. As my
friend Sean and I watched Jeter smash a home run to left-center for the
historic hit, we both wondered allowed if we were watching Jeter’s last great
moment.
To that point, a staple of our childhood, the wizard of the
jump-throw, that we and thousands of others impersonated on the fields after
school, was having his worst statistical year. Who knew what would happen the
rest of the way. Of course from that point on Jeter returned to form and backed
that up with a strong 2012 season, before an ankle injury and the image of the
immortal Jeter being helped off the field brought it all crashing down.
Three years later, up walked The Captain, Mr. November,
master of The Flip, architect of The Dive and the iconic baseball player of an
entire generation ready to bid farewell with one last moment, one last inside
out swing, one last leap in the air with a smile and clenched fists and one
last mob of Yankees teammates mobbing him.
And out walked Jorge and Andy and Tino and Mo and Bernie,
and then there was Mr. T. and of course the Jeter family, complete with his
nephew tipping his cap to his famed uncle. The crowd roared, chanted, and
cried.
Finally, The Captain addressed the thousands of fans in
attendance and millions more who had always been around for the ride. And for
the first time in his 20 years, admitted that the emotion of the moment had
even gotten the better of him, Derek Jeter, Mr. Calm. He thanked the crowd,
thanked his teammates, congratulated the opponents, though it pained him to mention
the Orioles were headed to the playoffs and he was headed into the sunset.
It was one more moment for us all to enjoy, but it would
never have been possible for it to happen with those many that preceded it. And
it would have never happened if Robertson had just gotten that save in the
first place…I bet he was relieved.
