Re: Profondo Baseball
Posted: 04/08/2008, 16:19
da page 2 di espn, sempre densa di chicche e piacevoli letture.
I am a die-hard New York Yankees fan, and I know I'm spoiled rotten. Born in May 1978, I was too young to remember the Yankees' World Series win that year. And they were a bad team for much of my childhood. But I know, I know … 13 straight years in the postseason, and four World Series wins in five years.
Puzzled? Let me explain. As I've written about on Page 2 before, I lost my father on Sept. 11, 2001. He grew up a few blocks from Yankee Stadium, worked in the Yankees' fan mail department as a teenager, and ingrained Yankees fandom in me.
Immediately after that wretched September day, sports receded from the spotlight -- in my life, and in all of your lives, too, I imagine. Major League Baseball stadiums were empty. The NFL canceled the following weekend's games. Sports, such a major component of our collective daily experience, more or less disappeared.
And rightfully so. Those ensuing days were a time for us to focus on other things. Like searching. And comforting. And praying. Games indeed should have been the furthest things from our minds.
A few days later, when the games resumed, they seemed different, didn't they? Less important, yet more important at the same time. Less significant, yet at the same time enriched with a new resonance.
I must admit, I wondered at first whether I'd ever care again about a sports team or a sporting event after the events of that day. When the games started again, I didn't watch much at first. I went back to work at ESPN three weeks later, but my heart wasn't in it. And a Yankees pennant drive, without my dad? That was almost too much to bear.
But, gradually, I began to tune in. I started caring again, little by little. I needed that distraction. I needed that release. We all did, didn't we?
There had been some great sporting accomplishments in 2001 before Sept. 11 -- such as Lance Armstrong's winning a third consecutive Tour de France, and Jennifer Capriati's winning her first two Grand Slam tournaments, and Tiger Woods' winning the Masters to complete the Tiger Slam. And there also were some great sporting accomplishments after Sept. 11 -- such as when the Seattle Mariners tied the major league record with 116 regular-season victories, and when Barry Bonds shattered the single-season home run record. (Steroids aside, that was still astounding.)
But best of all was the 2001 World Series, one of the most dramatic in baseball history. New York City's collective spirit was lifted from the depths of despair by the Yankees' run at another championship. Heck, I bet even some of you Yankees haters out there couldn't help but pull for the Evil Empire that fall.
My younger brother and I watched most of the Yankees' postseason games that year together, in the same family room where my father should have been watching with us. Early on, we talked about how sorry we were that he was missing all of this. But as time went on, we began talking about how much he'd be enjoying it instead. And we cheered, for what seemed like the first time in a very long time. I didn't quite realize it then, but sports was starting the healing process in us, in some small way.
The Yankees lost the first two games of that World Series against the Diamondbacks. But they fought back to win a nail-biter in Game 3. And then came Games 4 and 5 … and Byung-Hyun Kim … and the dramatic blasts of Tino Martinez, Derek Jeter and Scott Brosius into the Bronx night, bringing the Yankees within one win of another title. And what I remember most is when my brother and I were leaping out of our seats, and slapping fives, and hugging each other tighter than we probably ever had before.
And in Game 7, when Mariano Rivera gave up that game-winning blooper to Luis Gonzalez? Honestly, it really didn't hurt that much. Maybe it was because I couldn't be mad at my dad's favorite Yankee. Maybe it was because I was still numb from all the previous pain that fall.
Or maybe it was because the Yankees already had given me more than I ever thought a sports team could.
In the end, 2001 was the year we saw sports get placed in the proper perspective, which is a good thing.
Even better, it was the year I think we all realized, in our own way, how great a gift sports can be.
Kieran Darcy
I am a die-hard New York Yankees fan, and I know I'm spoiled rotten. Born in May 1978, I was too young to remember the Yankees' World Series win that year. And they were a bad team for much of my childhood. But I know, I know … 13 straight years in the postseason, and four World Series wins in five years.
Puzzled? Let me explain. As I've written about on Page 2 before, I lost my father on Sept. 11, 2001. He grew up a few blocks from Yankee Stadium, worked in the Yankees' fan mail department as a teenager, and ingrained Yankees fandom in me.
Immediately after that wretched September day, sports receded from the spotlight -- in my life, and in all of your lives, too, I imagine. Major League Baseball stadiums were empty. The NFL canceled the following weekend's games. Sports, such a major component of our collective daily experience, more or less disappeared.
And rightfully so. Those ensuing days were a time for us to focus on other things. Like searching. And comforting. And praying. Games indeed should have been the furthest things from our minds.
A few days later, when the games resumed, they seemed different, didn't they? Less important, yet more important at the same time. Less significant, yet at the same time enriched with a new resonance.
I must admit, I wondered at first whether I'd ever care again about a sports team or a sporting event after the events of that day. When the games started again, I didn't watch much at first. I went back to work at ESPN three weeks later, but my heart wasn't in it. And a Yankees pennant drive, without my dad? That was almost too much to bear.
But, gradually, I began to tune in. I started caring again, little by little. I needed that distraction. I needed that release. We all did, didn't we?
There had been some great sporting accomplishments in 2001 before Sept. 11 -- such as Lance Armstrong's winning a third consecutive Tour de France, and Jennifer Capriati's winning her first two Grand Slam tournaments, and Tiger Woods' winning the Masters to complete the Tiger Slam. And there also were some great sporting accomplishments after Sept. 11 -- such as when the Seattle Mariners tied the major league record with 116 regular-season victories, and when Barry Bonds shattered the single-season home run record. (Steroids aside, that was still astounding.)
But best of all was the 2001 World Series, one of the most dramatic in baseball history. New York City's collective spirit was lifted from the depths of despair by the Yankees' run at another championship. Heck, I bet even some of you Yankees haters out there couldn't help but pull for the Evil Empire that fall.
My younger brother and I watched most of the Yankees' postseason games that year together, in the same family room where my father should have been watching with us. Early on, we talked about how sorry we were that he was missing all of this. But as time went on, we began talking about how much he'd be enjoying it instead. And we cheered, for what seemed like the first time in a very long time. I didn't quite realize it then, but sports was starting the healing process in us, in some small way.
The Yankees lost the first two games of that World Series against the Diamondbacks. But they fought back to win a nail-biter in Game 3. And then came Games 4 and 5 … and Byung-Hyun Kim … and the dramatic blasts of Tino Martinez, Derek Jeter and Scott Brosius into the Bronx night, bringing the Yankees within one win of another title. And what I remember most is when my brother and I were leaping out of our seats, and slapping fives, and hugging each other tighter than we probably ever had before.
And in Game 7, when Mariano Rivera gave up that game-winning blooper to Luis Gonzalez? Honestly, it really didn't hurt that much. Maybe it was because I couldn't be mad at my dad's favorite Yankee. Maybe it was because I was still numb from all the previous pain that fall.
Or maybe it was because the Yankees already had given me more than I ever thought a sports team could.
In the end, 2001 was the year we saw sports get placed in the proper perspective, which is a good thing.
Even better, it was the year I think we all realized, in our own way, how great a gift sports can be.
Kieran Darcy
