The Night That It All Came Crashing Down

Has God turned on the Yankees?

I sit here, numb, staring blankly at the screen. How am I supposed to explain this feeling in my stomach, this pit that hurts so badly?

Just 10 minutes ago, my hands were shaking as I tried to type something. The Yankees aren't supposed to do this to me. They never do this to me. Not even in 2001; that was more of a shock at the end that I blacked out from my memory, 10-20 minutes of my life that I pretend never happened. But this? This is 4 days of total agony. From "Damn, we didn't sweep them, oh well" to "OK if the Yankees lose Game 5 I'm officially worried" to "This can't be happening" to "This is about to happen and I don't even have the will to bear it and root with all my heart"

In 2003, I exhausted myself watching that Game 7. Wore my Yankees cap and my Yankees sun visor (one forward, the other backwards, switching them around to try to inspire my team). I made noises that you hear at the dentist's office. I slammed my fist into pillows. I threw the remote around. And we won. Oh how we won, how glorious it was. History was telling us our time was up, but we stared it down. We stared it down and said "Not today".

For years, I never felt much of a rivalry against the Red Sox. We always beat them! This isn't a rivalry, this is domination. But last year, we faced the fear of finally being That Yankees Team...the one who finally lost to the Sox, either in a pennant chase or in the playoffs. And we stared it down and said "Not today".

For years, I'd actually wish for the Sox to win a World Series and I still do...under one condition: They don't beat us along the way. And last year, we stared it down. But since Aaron Boone launched that knuckleball deep into history, you just had a bad feeling about this war. The Red Sox got Schilling aka The Yankee Killer. We overhauled our entire pitching rotation. The Red Sox lost out on A-Rod and we ended up with him. And we got Sheffield. And Nomar was shot, so insulted by the A-Rod fiasco that he turned it in, ensuring his early departure via trade. And we won 101 games, built up a huge lead in the regular season and held on.

"Wait a minute Kashif. You had a bad feeling?"

Yes. The Red Sox were built on pitching and defense. The Yankees were built on home-run boppers, a video game dream team. It used to be the other way around. But not anymore. Now I felt trepidation. Coming into the ALCS, everyone thought the Red Sox would win. Yet I stuck with my team and picked them to win in 6. I just had a feeling, and they almost made me look like a genius. Almost.

I couldn't be happier after the first 3 games. We knocked around an injured Schilling, showed Pedro who his Daddy is and absolutely murdered them at Fenway. We were up 3-0. That's it. You don't lose 3-0 leads in baseball. EVER.

But then they beat Mariano. Mariano! He blows postseason saves about once every 3-4 years, and considering he just blew one 2 weeks ago, I never saw that coming. But like 2001, Torre pitched him way too much. No bother, we'll beat them in Game 5.

But somebody forgot to tell the Yankees that the series didn't end after the 19-8 debacle. And they lost...again. With Pedro starting. Beating Mariano...again. And with Schilling looming in Game 6.

By then, I was officially freaked out. Schilling pitched a game for the ages, an MJ-with-the-flu-in-97 game. If it was against anyone else, I'd love him for life. But he did it to us.

So it came as almost no surprise to me as the Yankees got blown down in Game 7. I couldn't even bear to watch the game, filling my time with South Park and a chick flick. It was that bad. At least I can chant "1918" for at least another week.

Baseball is America's pastime, a sport that our country has turned to for joy and comfort for over 100 years. We celebrate its milestones, its players, its teams, its stadiums and its history like no other sport. We write about it more than football basketball and hockey combined. It thrills us in the summer and chills us in October. It makes us cry when our team loses (or worse, when it moves) and perform cartwheels when our team wins, on average moreso than any other sport. It makes us question our faith and praise the Lord in many different ways.

Am I making any sense? Probably not. And I guess that's the point.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pray for God to turn on the Red Sox.