The Captain

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I give and take a lot when it comes to the Yankees. Of course, I haven't been a quiet fan of the team, and there's always been a spiritual approach to my wanting them to win every single game of every single year.

For those of you that knew my family as we grew, you know the television was always on in the garage on summer days, and there were so many people there, getting a whiff of the sauce, having a drink, laughing, and keeping an eye on the game.

"They're losing," was usually followed by my father saying something along the lines of, "They aren't going anywhere this year."

"They're winning," got a proud nod.

As a family we call agreed on a few universal truths:

1). Billy Martin was crazy, but a great manager.
2). Reggie was clutch
and
3). Jeter is an amazing player. Way better than A-Rod.

My mother and father named the dog Jeter. My wife, possibly my sisters and just about every female we ask about wants to marry him. He's a classy guy. No arguments out of anyone I've ever known. Even Red Sux or Mets fans.

Yet out of all the things about the Yankees that I've shared with so many people that I've loved through the years I found myself completely alone for the game yesterday afternoon. Sam was my only chance to share the moment and he went swimming.

So, I gave a little fist pump as Jeter got hit #2,999. To be honest, I wasn't expecting much his next time up. David Price is a good pitcher. The Yanks were being shut out.

My mind played a trick, flipping me back into a conversation before Game 3 of the 2000 World Series that was tied 1 to 1 with the hapless Mets.

"They're in trouble," Dad said just before first pitch.

"They're batting Jeter leadoff," Jeff added. "What the hell are they doing?"

That first pitch of Game 3 landed in the left field seats about halfway up at Shea Stadium.

"That's why," I remember saying as we high-fived. "Never underestimate Jeter."

Hit #3,000 landed in about the same general location yesterday. Different stadium, but same location. And a funny thing happened when the ball landed.

Sitting alone, my eyes filled with sudden, unexpected tears. That is baseball for me. It's not that I love Jeter the man, I love that he brought me close to my family. I love that we shared so much together in the glow of their victories.

It was crazy. I was tearing up in pride for a multi-millionaire who has all the celebrity, fame and glory that a man can have in one lifetime. He has a smoking hot girl (she's no Kathy Fazzolari) and loving and supporting family members.

But I wasn't crying for him.

The door to my room slammed open.

"That was awesome!" Sam said.

"I thought you were swimming."

"I didn't want to miss seeing this with you," he said.

Me neither, buddy.

Thank you, captain.

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