The screams, the shrieks, my sister’s evil cackle on the other end of the line after Damon’s grand slam, my phone ringing off the hook the second the game ended, the hanging on … hanging on … still not believing … even with a lead like the one they had … The game ain’t over until it’s over. You can’t EVER relax. But then, eventually, it started to gain weight – force – reality … We might pull this off … Holy crap … this might actually happen … Is 8 – 3 an insurmountable lead? With our history as a team? Absolutely not. That lead could disappear in a flash. And then Pedro came in, and I saw my life flash before my eyes. The entire time he was on the mound I was muttering, with gritted teeth, like a crazy person: “Get him OFF the mound. Take. Him. Out. The End. GET HIM OFF.” I couldn’t believe we could watch our lead slip away – It would have been like it had never ever happened – I was on the edge of tragedy, on the edge of despair – I could feel victory slipping through my fingers – a terrible moment … Sorry, Pedro – you’re one of the greatest pitchers ever – but it’s a tough world, and we needed to get you off the dern mound.
At the insane bar where I watched the game – slowly but surely over the night, all of the Yankee fans disappeared. They couldn’t bear to even stay and watch the end. So at the end – when victory came – it was just us Boston-ites. All of us on our phones – screaming – jumping up and down – One guy opened a bottle of champagne and sprayed it everywhere … The celebration went on and on and on and on and on – with no let-up, no diminishment of sound – for half an hour. I finally dragged myself away.
But then of course couldn’t get to sleep. My mind was racing, buzzing, I kept going over and over and over the game … one of the most incredible sporting events I’ve ever seen. An historical moment. I cannot believe that I have lived to see it.
I still can’t believe it. It feels like a dream. I can’t believe it.