Thank you, Yankees, for winning yesterday, because I really needed a lift

Yesterday, my wife and I took our two sons to college and left them there.

Twenty years. High. Far. Gone. Just like that. As John would say...

Twenty years... the career of a pitcher, the life of a cat, the length of a journey.

Blink of an eye.

Twenty years ago, I laughed about Phil Rizzuto, cried about Don Slaught, considered our "Andy" to be Hawkins (in a rotation with Clay Parker, Dave LaPoint, Greg Cadaret and Walt Terrell.) And I wrote pieces for National Lampoon holding my oldest son in a sling between my chest and keyboard.

Twenty years. I know what John would say.

So... I just want to thank the Yankees for winning yesterday. I'd forgotten about them. Too many issues, too many memories, too many thoughts swimming in my soup. Around 4, I finally turned on the radio to hear a Fordam University student station report that the game was safe and secure. (And you can keep your family safe and secure...)

Twenty years...

Way I see it, you're lucky just to get one decent 20-year run. (You could be a Royals fan.)

Thank you, Sergio Mitre.

Thank you Jerry Hairston.

Thank you, Hideki. Thank you, Jeet.

Thank you immortal Yankee God, whether you are known as Babe, Thurman, Bobby or Yahweh.

I really needed that win.

Christ, I'm getting old.

Well, at least I know what John would say...