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.
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