Jorge

Beyond the blur of tortured screams and the beating of furniture, most of my greatest memories of the Aaron Boone game have nothing to do with Aaron Boone. I remember Giambi's solo homers, like angry statements from nowhere. I remember Pedro staring into the rafters, wondering WTF?, as he walks to the showers. Most of all, I remember the announcer shouting, "FAIR BALL" on Jorge's bloop into left field, which puts him on second base, pumping his fist, with the game tied and a light finally showing at the end of a tunnel.

Years earlier, I remember monitoring him in Columbus box scores when he played 2B, our future replacement for Steve Sax. One day, they put a C next to his name, the kiss of death for a prospect. They were making him a utility lugnut, not worthy of a regular position. Hah. He showed them.

I remember the first time they announced him as the starting catcher in the All-Star game. Jorge's tiny son, who suffered from a cranial disorder and had already undergone more surgeries than most people do in their lifetimes, burst onto the field in a Yankee uniform. The proud father snatched him up, a backstory too powerful for the network announcers to touch.

Just as Thurman Munson - in the minds of Yankee-haters - was to be always overshadowed by Johnny Bench, so was Georgie in comparisons to Ivan Rodriguez. But we who watched him know the truth: He was every bit as great as IRod. And none of those players owns as many World Series rings.

Lifelong Yankee. Core Four. "George juices one!"

Close your eyes, everybody. It's 2003, and we're down against Boston in the eighth. Pedro looks unstoppable. Tying runs on base. Georgie swings...