Today's defensive alignment is sponsored by Black Bear premium franks and sausages, available exclusively at ShopRite.
it just HAD to end like this, didn't it? the dream too audacious to contemplate turned reality by our beloved Yankees Captain. we won't see another like him in our lifetimes. Maybe not even another Captain.
It's nearly 2am, and I can't yet fall asleep. I admit I checked out maybe three weeks ago after listening to damn near every game on the radio, as I have, pretty much since I was 12. I moved from NJ to NH in 1994. There was no Yes network, there was no MLB app. The only way I could get a taste of home was a rare national game, a rare Red Sox yankees game, or 770 WABC coming in faintly when the sun finally set. Luckily John Sterlings voice cuts through the inherent deficiencies of amplitude modulation... And today I just stream the damn game usually. Well until a few weeks ago.I miss things from my youth. Go back to NJ and certain buildings are gone, stores closed, trees chopped down. Jeter was as cold and distant and lovable and inhuman as any other inanimate object... As stoic as a a stump. Icicle. Mr. November because he was like the winter.But here I am, crying like a baby, because when Derek got old, I got old. He's another thing gone. One less thing I used to have... Something from a time so long ago that all of its negatives have faded completely. I'm just devastated.Finally though, Jeter cracked, just a little. Me and Susan weren't the only ones crying. And finally, in that press conference, Derek felt a little more human.
Yes KD, total storybook ending,,,,And, BEAUTIFULLY written Mr BJP Burnside, you very eloquently summed up my emotions as well, a million thanks for your post!!!!!
Mr. Burnside got me going again. I'm a mess this morning.
Great, great call from The Master! What a moment! If this otherwise entirely forgettable season gave us nothing else, this will do....
Thank you Duque for posting this. I was watching on the MLB app and I immediately wanted to hear the masters call.“The art of fiction is dead. Reality has strangled invention. Only the utterly impossible, the inexpressibly fantastic, can ever be plausible again.” Shirley Povich on Bobby Thompson's HR that beat the 1951 Dodgers.
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