Thus ends another Yankee season. It was a lot of fun watching the surge in the second half. And it was exhilarating to see so many youngsters develop right before our eyes.
Certainly the future is extremely promising, but those cheerful thoughts are appropriate for another day.
It goes without saying that this game was one of the most frustrating post-season games I've seen. The Yanks had so many chances to score, inning after inning, but in the end the offense couldn't make up for Wang's horrible start.
The solo HRs from Robby, A-Rod and Bobby strangely added to the aggravation, as they served to remind me of all the missed chances that occurred with men on base.
It's the end of an era. The post-game press conferences will be fascinating. How will Torre handle the inevitable questions about his job? And you know A-Rod will be drilled about the opt-out.
Is this also the last we've seen of Posada and Rivera?
Well, at least we won't have to see any more of Craig Sager's suits anymore this year. I know, small consolation.
It's clear that Joe knows this is the end. As John Flaherty just mentioned, there was a lot of "they" and not a lot of "we" in his comments.
Some highlights from Joe Torre's Press Conference:
"This team, they dug themselves out of a hole and learned how to be a team. This ball club has a great future. The young kids who have come down the pike here, not just the ability but the quality of them, it's something special."
"It's been a great 12 years, no matter what happens; I will look back on these 12 years with great pleasure. The 12 years seemed like it was 10 minutes long, to be honest with you."
"The fans never quit on you, they let you know when they don't like something, but that's their right."
"I'm looking forward to spending some time at home, I would appreciate it if there are no vigils outside my home. I give you what you want when I'm here. I'd like some privacy."
"We think it's going to last forever, but a 5-game series is a crapshoot. When you bury yourself in your work, it's like putting a puzzle together. And I thank my coaching staff. The team fought back into contention. They knew it would be hard work and they would get dirty along the way. They way I feel about my guys, you hug them."
When asked if he wanted to manage somewhere else:
"Not in the next three days. I'll see what my options are. I am not ready to move somewhere and not do something."
My first guess is Hello St. Louis…
And now begins that awkward transition from the exhilarating baseball season to the cold, bleak winter… from the eager anticipation of the next night's game to the utter desolation and total despair that characterizes the long, bored months of no baseball.
I do not take refuge in any other sports, so for you Red Sox fans out there, you may rejoice knowing that I will spend the next several months in a sort suspended hibernation, starring blankly at the clock, willing it to move forward, forward, forward to spring-while you guzzle your Sam Adams at the Cask n' Flagon, licking the foam off the chilled glass with satisfied smirks.
Pulling for your favorite team in earnest as I do is a type of myopia, a sickness if you will. There is no cure for it, only the temporary remission of winter.
Sure, the Yanks will be back, but it will take a while to recognize the team, the manager, the coaches…and the batboys. All will change.
I'll know I'm ready for Spring when I long for the voice of Suzyn Waldman. (That usually takes awhile.) Right now I don't think I can handle the radio or the papers, and I have long ago abandoned the sadistic practice of watching ESPN. (I find NESN much more objective and rational in their baseball coverage than ESPN, which is simply a home for front running Boston fratboys.)
As a lifelong New Englander, I have always lived in enemy territory. It's often unsettling, sometimes insufferable. April can't come soon enough.
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