O CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN
When I moved to New York City in 2009, I watched every Yankees game on my laptop in class. I had watched them many years in front of a television at my mother's house, but it felt different to watch them on a TV in the heart of Manhattan. I never made it to a game that season, but the Yankees ended up in the Post-Season. I sat on the phone with my Ma as we watched the World Series finale together. Her from our living room at home, and I in my dorm in Greenwich Village. When the Yankees won, we cheered, we danced, every car honked, every New Yorker hollered, and together we celebrated another World Series Championship even though we were 2,000 miles apart.
Tonight my mother and I sat on the couch and watched Jeter play his last game ever. It was the end of an era, our era. In the past 23 years I've graced this planet with my charm, Jeter has been standing at short-stop for 20 of them. It would seem that Jeter would have taken his last at bat in the bottom of the seventh tonight, but then something incredible happened. Baltimore tied the game in the top of the ninth and Jeter had to take one last swing at the ball in the Bronx. He hit, it flew, and Jeter won the game. We cheered, we danced, we shed a tear, and all of New York went wild. It was magical.
I owe Jeter a thank you, for allowing me to share magical moments with my Ma.
He'll always be our captain.