Farewell Captain.

It's Sunday. I have no intentions of publishing this until Thursday, but the thought of trying to corral all of my thoughts in one single day is exhausting.

How do you sum up 20 seasons of a career that largely shaped the person you are today?

I was 5 when Jeter came into the league. He may have been the first crush I ever remember having.

He was so exciting to watch. I practiced the jump throw in my back yard SO many times. I demanded to play short stop, contrary to my height being ideal for first base. I spent every morning memorizing the Yankees new batting averages. I HAD to check box scores. Our birthdays are two days apart, and he's #2, and in my little OCD brain THAT MEANT SOMETHING.

In short, Derek Jeter made me fall in love with baseball.

That's correct. Derek Jeter is the reason this girl spends her nights scouring box scores, studying pitching motions, looking at graphs on pitch f/x, and would rather have the TV on a sports network than E!. (I may not be a Yankees fan anymore, but Jeter will always be my favorite player)

It's funny, in my 9/11 post I mentioned the 2001 game 4 walk off home run Jeter hit. I was talking about that night with my best friend the other night. How vividly I remember EVERYTHING about that night. What I was doing, the comforter I had, the poster I was drawing on.

I'm pretty sure it's the night I irreversibly fell in love with the sport of baseball.

It was magic, it was exciting, and it was mine.

I mean, before that, I was hooked. But that's the first moment I really remember just being mesmerized by what I was seeing. Enough that 13 years later it's clear as day in my memory.

So when Jeter walks off the field for the last time as a player, my childhood will officially be over.

The New York Yankees will have a new shortstop. There will never be another pinstriped jersey bearing a #2. The guy who I have looked up to for most of my life will not be on my TV 162 times a year.

And I will bawl my eyes out.

As most of you recall, or know me personally, 98% of my emotions are evoked by sports.

I have cried at every Jeter commercial, every article, and every time I have opened my planner and looked at the date, realizing we're one day closer to the end of an era.

Fast forward to tonight, Jeter's final game at Yankee Stadium, and I did cry.

It was strange. Tonight was the first time in 20 years that I remember seeing Jeter visibly nervous, visibly showing any emotion at all. You could tell from every time he bent down when he was on deck. The extra times he stepped out of the batters box to settle down. The times he did that pinch your nose so you don't get choked up thing...

I was pretty teary eyed in the top of the 9th. You just looked and saw Jeter really taking it in. He looked to have the attention span of a 5 year old. Just looking around at everything, trying to soak it all in. I mean how many times in the past 20 years, aside from maybe the "firsts" (first year, first playoffs, first world series, first time in the new stadium) do you really think he stopped and soaked in everything about Yankee stadium?

I bet, like the rest of us, some of it's majesty was lost on monotony.

And tonight, we all got to see him take it in.

Then, the Orioles tied the game and we went to the bottom of the 9th. I texted my best friend, "I really just want a jetes walk-off here."

And we got it. Much like my favorite Jeter walk off memory, it was opposite field, a single instead of a home run this time.

What a storybook ending to a career.

A career that is best summed up by Derek Jeter himself, "There were better players than me, but no one worked harder than me."

RE2PECT,
Farewell Captain.

Reflections from 9/11, how Sports help "heal."

It is currently September 11 as I type this. My mind is full of a lot of thoughts at the moment. For starters, I'm watching a baseball game, desperately hoping that who I want to start pitching will come in, then just realized no one will be needed to pitch the bottom of the 9th. Bummer. I'm thinking about the Boston bombings and how the Red Sox really helped an entire city rally. And I'm of course thinking about the day 13 years ago when 4 planes were hijacked to carry out the worst terror attack on American soil.

And my heart is once again broken.

I was fortunate enough to have visited Ground Zero in the summer of 2012. I had exactly two things on my NYC bucket list.
1. Ground Zero
2. Yankee Stadium

Everything else could wait.

I can't describe it. It's absolutely beautiful to be the site of such a horrific tragedy. It's zen like and peaceful. People don't speak. All you hear is the water crashing down the memorials. I remember running my hands along the names of the south tower memorial. Just wanting somehow to be closer, thinking how loud the water was, and how it paled in comparison to the noise of the towers coming down.

Then my fingers hit a really long name.

"Jennifer Howley & unborn child"

I lost it. I still lose it now rereading that sentence. The name will forever stick with me.

I was fortunate enough to meet some of the first responders from Firehouse 10. Capt. Burke, if you EVER see this, know that the 20 minutes you spent with my sister and I, will stick with us the rest of our lives.

Then place number 2 on my bucket list. Yankee Stadium. Not the house the Ruth built but, damn. It's a special place. And the two places are forever connected in my heart.

You see, if you read my first blog post ever on Mariano Rivera, and when you read my future one on the Captain (When I admit to myself that he is actually retiring and my childhood is officially dead), you would know I grew up a Yankees fan. Those two men, are the REASON I fell in love with the game. And Yankee stadium was majestic to me.

As you may remember, the yankees did not, well none of major league baseball did, played a game for a week.

The Yankees also made the world series that year. It's truly astounding how much I remember from that year.

There was game 3, the first one in New York, a largely democratic state, where Mr. President stepped on the field to throw the first pitch, and Yankee stadium was as loud as I've ever heard it. I remember being so proud to be an American. This was a city that needed this, and was healing through this. (Google it, it's good for some goosebumps)

Then there was game 4. Halloween. All hyped up on sugar with my mother begging me to fall asleep because it was a school night, there I was at 11 PM my time, after midnight in New York, watching an extra inning game just loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to hint to my parents that I wasn't asleep. (This should've been their tip-off this would become a reoccurring theme in my life)

So, it's officially November, and the Captain, Derek Jeter is up to bat. BOOM. Homerun, right field, walk off. (Mr. November in the house)

And for that moment, a city that had been brought to its knees just 6 weeks before, wasn't hurting.

(Yes, I know. Series goes 7 games, NY loses, trust me, I remember being a heart broken child.)

See, sports are an outlet for so many of us. A lovely distraction, a passion, an interest. In the moments of a game, we can completely escape from our outside world. Try to talk to me about life issues during a game. I dare you. You won't get any response that's worth anything.

And in that way, sports are healing.

Think back to the Boston bombings. Look at how that city rallied around the Red Sox, and around the Bruins. (Both of those teams made championship series that year. HUSH WITH YOUR CONSPIRACY THEORIES)

But think about how the city showed up at Fenway Park. Emotional pre game (THIS IS OUR FOCKING CITY-- Big Papi's accent is accounted for in quote) and for a few hours, a city got to come together, and forget about what was happening outside the park, and start to heal together.

Maybe that's why I love sports so much.

XOXO

P.S. Sincerely praying for the 2,977 VICTIMS of the terrorist attacks, and the 411 emergency responders who gave their lives to save others. Many of these heroes entered buildings MULTIPLE times, knowing that they weren't going back home to see their families. My heart breaks for the people who loved those lost, and who have to cope with this tragedy 365 days a year, versus the 1 in which the rest of us are filled with emotion.