I was a spoiled young Yankees fan as I grew up in the 90s and believed that the Yankees always won the World Series. Every Fall there was Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and another World Championship for the New York Yankees. I remember staying up way past my bed time on a school night in 7th grade, November 4, 2001, as I cried my eyes out watching the trophy slip through the finger tips of my beloved Yanks and Mariano Rivera, who I thought was nothing less than invincible. The Yankees were not the World Champions, and I thought the world was coming to an end (and thinking of that heart-wrenching night still pains me as if I were 12). Little did I know how blessed I was.
I was fortunate enough to be at the stadium a week ago for the memorial ceremony for George, and watched all of the players of today march out to Monument Park along with the Steinbrenner family and various Yankee greats including Yogi, Reggie, and Donnie Baseball in a truly beautiful and sacred moment. But what really got to me was when Tino Martinez and Joe Torre's faces appeared upon the ginormous screen in centerfield, taking me back to my childhood that took place during one of the greatest eras of Yankees baseball, bringing tears to my eyes. In that moment it was clear: it was all thanks to The Boss.
As the boys head into the last week of a hard-fought season, with the magic number of a playoff spot down to 1, I bet you George is looking down upon us, with fire and compassion in his eyes, thinking... "What the hell are you doing?! Win the goddamn division already and then bring number 28 to New York!" I couldn't agree more.
Winning is the most important thing in my life, after breathing. Breathing first, winning next.
