THANKS JEET

After I moved from New York as a teen I stopped following major league baseball altogether. Looking back, I realize that there was a sense of guilt and shame for having moved to Los Angeles. I had betrayed my teammates. That is how deep it goes for New Yorkers. Before that I was the hugest fan. No. In fact, for me and my buddies, it was way more like family than fan. Lou Pinella, Reggie, Willie, Thurman, Guidry and 'Catfish'.... all the pinstripes, even Billy Martin were thought of as big brothers. That is why the world stopped spinning as did my heart when Thurman Munson's plane went down in ‘79. I never will forget seeing the New York Post's front and full page headline in the ferry terminal. Like a broken bat, shock and tears cracked me to splinters that late morning. Forty minutes later, the first boarding bell rang. Like the countless wads of gum, stashed under the terminal’s long and solid dark wooden benches, known to countless immigrants, I remained stuck in my seat. What was the point? There was no way that I would be able to play catch with my buddies Steve and Jeff that day.

Numb and rattled for meaning, I stayed put and gazed at the crowd of travelers as they shuffled onboard. With the startling surprise of a flash of lightening, those lost young eyes suddenly opened-wide at the last possible moment. The sound of the second ironed bell brought to mind Lady Liberty and all those she stands so strong far. Even though I had never set foot on Elis Island the sight of her always brought a sense of promise and purpose to me. There was nothing better than sitting outside on the aft, relishing the warmth of a salted pretzel and that one-of-a-kind view of her triumphant torch, reminding each person who saw it to carry their inner-light. As quickly as I had fallen into darkness I rose from the bench and raced over the black and white marbled checkered floor. With only seconds to spare I crossed over the steel draw bridge and landed onto the aft of that unforgettable Staten Island Ferry.

Back then, being a Yankee was on par with being an American. Although those days are long gone, big plays, players and great finishes remain the trademark of this legendary franchise. A team that represents not only a great sport but the heart and soul of what still, yes I believe still makes America great. And as Derek Jeeter reminded us all last night, it is that never give-up attitude that keeps the flag flying high and inner-light aflame. Thanks Jeet!

E~