Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Nine Innings

Morning, Slackers, gotta make this brief...

The Ambiguously Gay Uno, his unambiguously female girlfriend and I watched Nine Innings From Ground Zero last night, a really good documentary about how America's pasttime helped heal the wounds of the September 11th attacks. It's amazing, I'm now absolutely convinced that I'll never be able to watch footage of that morning without weeping like the little girl that I am. I spent 65 minutes with tears welled up in my eyes. That's always fun. Shoulda watched Scrubs after the documentary instead of before, just to cheer me up and return me to normalcy.

Two things blew me away about that documentary: The first is how much everyone loved our President. This guy rallied us together for a while, stood with us and made us feel safe. Say what you will about him now, Lord knows I have and I will, but at that time, he could do no wrong. We watched in simple amazement as President Bush walked unaccompanied to the pitcher's mound in Yankee Stadium and delivered a legitimate strike to home plate before Game Three. And the Stadium went bonkers. Here was a representative we all could get behind. He was on fire. Fast forward three years and look where we're at the hell did we get here? I'd love to be able to rally behind a leader again, only not following a tragedy. Is that really too much to ask?

More importantly, the scenes from Game Four and Game Five left me just about speechless. I still remember the 9th inning of Game Four like it was yesterday, sitting on my roommate's bed while he sat at his desk, talking to friends on instant messenger. The game was over, the series was over, a 3-1 lead was virtually insurmountable. The Yankees' run for the people of New York was over, for the the people of America was over. And then Pauly O dropped in the bloop, and Tino provided the blast. Jeter won it shortly after midnight, and the improbable run continued.

As awesome as that game was, being at Game Five will always be one of my greatest memories ever, one I'll tell all my illegimate kids about for sure. Thankfully my buddy's father got sick at Game Four, so the ticket opened up and my ass got to see a World Series game, in New York -- a city grieving and cheering and rooting and crying, all in one emotion. The security was craisins, there were military helicopters constantly flying over the Stadium, it felt like an Iraqi soccer game. And the magic happened for us. For us! There was a certain Goonies feeling about it, that this was our time, down here, that the Yankees and the Higher Powers were conspiring to do right by us, to console us and lift us out of the fog that had fallen less than two months before. They showed us resilience, they taught us how to get back off the canvas and fight another day. This wasn't just baseball, this was life. When Brosius cracked his improbable 9th-inning homerun, it breathed new life and spirit into a city, a state and a nation. That sounds funny now, but that's how I saw it then, and that's how I see it now. That wasn't only the best game I've ever been to, it's one of the best moments I've ever shared with people in all my days.

Much thanks to Corey for bringing me to the party, and to his father for developing bronchitis or influenza the night before. Only two other games I've been to even come close to that night: Northwestern's 54-51 defeat of Michigan in 2000, and the Rangers beating the Devils in double overtime to advance to the 1994 Stanley Cup. Each of those games deserves a post of their own, because they were that special. But neither had the social and cultural significance of the Yankees three home wins, two in utterly ridiculous fashion, in October and November of 2001. I'll never forget. Sure we Fisked away the Series in seven games, but those three wins at home, in New York, were our World Series. We won. Our time. And I will never forget.

On an unrelated note, here are a few more Google and Yahoo searches that brought people to Slack within the past 24 hours:

--Drea de Matteo's ass

--Tiger-cock zodiac astrology

--Linda Cohn breast

--Zoloft recreationally


At 12:18 PM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

Nuthin'? OK, I'll remember that.

At 12:49 PM, Blogger poophopanonymous22 said...

jesus h. christ, u watch one episode of joey and it turns u into a sentimental faggot. maybe u could recommend a soap opera for me to watch before i return to the real world while you're at it.


At 1:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

la shana tovah to all you slackers

At 1:42 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

la shana tovah to all you slackers

At 2:05 PM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

I'd watch Days of our Lives. That hourglass mesmorizes me. Ah shut it poophop, when I want your ignorant opinion, I'll give it to you.


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