By In Stuff

Mr. November

My favorite Derek Jeter story comes from a time that, I fear, no one will understand in a few years. Maybe no one understands now. It comes from a time of newspapers and early columns and running columns and crushing deadlines. I have tried to explain the newspaper deadline concept to my daughters but, like the concept of only three television networks and rotary phones, it simply drifts past their dulled eyes the way my father’s stories about having no television set drifted by mine.

“Why did you have such early deadlines?” 

“Because they had to take the newspapers far away.”

“Why didn’t they just email the newspapers?”

“We didn’t have email.”

“So why didn’t they text the newspapers?” 

On October 31, 2001, I sat in the left field stands at Yankee Stadium as the helpless Yankees were being mowed down by Arizona’s right-handed force of nature Curt Schiling (their left-handed force of nature, Randy Johnson, had mowed the Yankees down three nights before). The left field stands was where the Yankees put their “auxiliary press” and one of the advantages of being banished out there was being so close to those hard-core Bleacher Creature Yankee fans who came up with the whole idea of chanting a players name until he acknowledges them. Watching them told the story. Schilling gave up three hits in seven innings, struck out nine, held Jeter to three infield outs — and the fans were deathly silent. There was no hope. This game was Arizona’s.

In those days (gather round children) you had to be keen to the early rhythms of games because of that horror enchantingly known as “early columns.” In order to deliver Kansas City Star newspapers to the driveways in the far-reaches of Kansas and Missouri, columnists were given a series of deadlines to hit. The first column needed to be delivered before the game even began — apparently so that people in Salina and Springfield did not have giant white spaces where a sports column was supposed to be. I often wondered what people out there must have thought of my writing. I can only assume they thought, “Did this guy even go to the game? He never writes anything about the game. There isn’t a single detail in here. Where’s the score?”*

*As long as we’re reminiscing, I will quickly tell a story from the 1997 World Series when, like all the other columnists, I was trolling the field before the game looking for anything at all to write early when all of a sudden I heard a voice call me.

“Joe!” the voice said.

I turned around. It was Bip Roberts. He had played for the Royals the year before. I had no idea how Bip Roberts knew my name.

“Hi Bip.”

“Come here for a second.”

So I went over to talk with Bip Roberts, who at the time was playing a smaller role for Cleveland. and unsolicited he proceeded to RIP the Royals organization. I don’t know if Bip Roberts simply understood the whole early column politics and knew I’d write about him or if he just wanted to vent but let me tell you something … that day Bip Roberts became one of my favorite people. I strutted around the auxiliary press box with a smile that said, “Ha ha, suckers, I have my early.” You give a columnist an early column, you are a friend for life.

In any case, with the Star, there was the early column (which I had already done). Then there was what we called a “running column.” That was the column that, more or less, had to be delivered just as the game ended. These newspapers, I guess, went to areas not quite as far out as the early region, but still out there somewhere. After that you would write your “late column” or as columnists liked to call it, your “real column.”

In theory, the “running column” could just be the early column updated with a few game details. But most columnists I knew rebelled against that idea. We almost always despised our early columns (except when Bip Roberts showed up). To dress it up as the running column first meant reading it again, which was more than we could bear.

So how did we write these running columns? Easy. We would guess. Early in the game, we would start writing a column based on the flow of the game. Sometimes, a flurry of points or runs or goals came early and we had a fairly easy time of it. Other times, no. If things changed in the middle, we would change in the middle. If things were unclear, we would sometimes write two different columns, updating each as the game progressed.

That night in New York, with Schilling dealing, with the Bleacher Creatures mourning, with Arizona leading the game 3-1 and about to lead the seven-game series by the same total … I was confidently pounding away on my running column. The theme to the column was simple: The Yankees are dead. That’s all. The Yankees had won three straight World Series up to that point, four in five years, they had dominated baseball like no team of my lifetime. They made more, spent more, won more, and were cheered more than any team. They were inescapable.

But not anymore.

The Yankees are dead, I wrote. I don’t remember the other words in the story, but I’m sure that — like Groot in “Guardians of the Galaxy” — I simply used those four words again and again in that same order. 

Well, of course, you remember that ninth inning. The lamentable Byung-Hyun Kim ha entered the game an inning before, and he had no idea at that moment that he would ever be called “lamentable Byung-Hyun Kim.” In fact, in that eighth inning he struck out the side. The ninth began with Jeter bunting into an out, Paul O’Neill singling and Bernie Williams whiffing.

My running column was done (The Yankees are dead) when Tino Martinez stepped to the plate. He homered. The game was tied. The stadium electrified.

I looked at my utterly worthless column. Worthless. It was … yeah, worthless. I kept looking at it, trying to find any way to salvage it.

And — I promise this is true — my first thought was: Maybe I can insert NOT into the sentences. You know, like, “The Yankees are NOT dead.”

And — I promise this is true — my second thought was: “Maybe I can lead off the column by saying, “Well, this was going to be my column before Byung-Hyun Kim gave up that homer to Tino Martinez.”

And — you know this is true — my third thought was: I am so screwed.

So, what do you do when you are totally screwed? The game went into extra innings, and the office called to say that they would push my deadline back a few minutes but they needed a column the SECOND the game ended. I was too frantic to even argue. I just started typing words — unrelated words, foreign words, gibberish words. Here I was trying to write a column from scratch from a tie game.*

Another quick story: Once, a few years ago, the Kansas City Chiefs were playing a Monday Night Game similar to this one, where the game was in doubt and running deadline had passed. A writer stood up in the pressbox and shouted, “I don’t know who is going to win! I don’t know who is going to win!” We’ve all snapped at one time or another.

So, I was barely watching the game in the 10th, with two outs, nobody on, and Derek Jeter came to the plate. Lamentable Byun-Hyung Kim was still on the mound for some reason. The crowd was still buzzing from the Tino miracle, still high from that crazy moment. And, of course, there was something else in the air, something beyond sports. Ground Zero was still burning. It was less than two months after 9/11 and New York was in pain, America was in pain, I don’t think sports had anything to do with that but here were 55,863 people together, almost all of them New Yorkers, and there was Derek Jeter, the player they loved most, and everything sort of stopped like in the movies. I looked up from the screen. Midnight had just struck. And I saw it.

I don’t know if the roar at Yankee Stadium when Jeter hit the home run was the loudest I ever heard. Probably not. The crowd in Beijing when Usain Bolt broke the 100-meter record was loud. The crowd at Allen Fieldhouse the last time Kansas played Missouri was loud. The crowd at Alabama, the Vikings crowd at the Metrodome, the crowd at Chicago Stadium for the Stanley Cup, they’re all really loud.

But I’ve never heard a sound like that one at Yankee Stadium. It wasn’t a cheer. It was like … a prayer. A joyous prayer. A joyous prayer sung by a gospel choir. Jeter ran around the bases, and the noise was tangible, you could actually feel it, like it was misting outside. I blinked and tried to take it all in, and the phone rang, and I ignored it and wrote feverishly, something, anything, babbling about the Yankees and Jeter and gospel prayers and promising myself that I would never read that column again. Then, I finished, and I sent, and my heart was beating a million miles a minute, and I took a deep breath.

And that’s when I realized no one was leaving. The fans were staying there, all of them, and they were singing “New York, New York” along with the crackling recording of Frank Sinatra. When the song ended, the fans waited, and the voice would begin again, and they would sing again. Three times it played. Four times it played. Five times. Sinatra. Fans. These little town blues.

This is the luckiest job I know. The job has taken me all over the world. It has introduced me to the most amazing people. It has given me a seat to watch some of the most vivid art and most thrilling drama of the last 25 years. And all I’ve had to do is write it down. There isn’t a single day that I’m not grateful for this life.

That said, I remember sitting there, thinking about the passion of Derek Jeter, visualizing the home run again, listening to that crowd sing, looking at the blank screen I had to fill, and I could feel my eyes watering a little bit. Hell, I know sports isn’t life, and there’s a lot of bad out there in the games people play, and this Jeter Appreciation Tour seems to have lasted for twenty-five years and all that. But I still hear that crowd singing.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

54 Responses to Mr. November

  1. Al Brooke says:

    Thank you, Joe.

    • jalabar says:

      I know this is wrong, and isn’t Jeter’s fault at all, but I will always resent Jeter for two reasons. The first is that, myself as an Orioles’ fan, he hit the home run that wasn’t… that should not have been with barely competent umps or had Jeffrey Maier’s parents practiced responsible family planning. The second is that Jeter is going to go into the HoF first ballot, while more deserving players, like Tim Raines and Lou Whitaker, and more deserving shortstops like Trammel and (so far) Biggio are not, and that is wrong.

  2. Jerry-NJ says:

    Joe: Thanks for recapturing a moment for me. I was a few rows away from you, in the “regular” seats. Amazing.

  3. John says:

    Thanks Joe.

    I followed the Yankees before ’01. But the shock and loss of that year changed baseball for me, and became more than a game because it was a part of the healing process. There was before and there is after drawn in sand, and Derek Jeter is a part of that line.

  4. ceolaf says:

    Oh dear god. You too?

    The most overrated player of his generation. The most overrated ever? It’s hard to tell.

    Yes, that was one of his career moments. But I lived in NYC at the time, and I hated it. I did not think that it was appropriate for the Yankees (and their fans) to appropriate 9/11. I did not think that baseball or sports should appropriate 9/11.

    Yes, you are right. Jeter is their most loved player. And yes, he hit that home run. For that, he is foolishly called Mr. November.


    This weather is the appropriate weather for the end of a dreary Yankees season, devoted to continual celebration of an overrated player at the expense of actually trying to compete.

    So, please, can we let it go?

    • David in NYC says:

      ceolaf — Agree with you completely. Yes, he was a good, probably great ballplayer. Yes, he will go into the HoF 1st ballot (you can bet your mortgage on it), deservedly so.

      But really, people — what’s so damn special about him? He’s not exciting to watch, he’s possibly the worst-fielding position player in history (they didn’t call him “Pasta Diving” Jeter for nothing), he is not all that great a teammate (ask A-Rod). He wasn’t a great leader — anyone remember an inspiring quote? So concerned about the team above all (ha!), he refused to move from SS (worst-fielding ever, remember) to another position after A-Rod (at the time, the best-fielding SS in baseball) arrived because SS belonged to him alone)t. When Cashman said, “Go ahead, be a free agent” couple springs ago, he sulked like a 6-year-old. Off-field, his major accomplishments, so far as I know, were being cute, and banging a lot of chicks without it getting into the papers (though I think some of his conquests, say, Minka Kellly, might take exception to that evaluation — not to mention the parting gift bag for his conquests).

      And, based on what I’ve heard and read about “The Flip”, I am apparently the only person on earth who remembers the post-game interview with the person who had the best view of the whole play, Yankee catcher Jorge Posada — who said Giambi would have been out anyway. Simple physics (laws of motion and all that) tells us that what Jeter did actually delayed the ball from reaching home plate.

      Not the greatest player of all-time (you’d have to be crazy or on drugs to think that), not the greatest Yankee of all-time by a long shot (some of you may remember players named Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Mantle, and Berra, just to name a few), never led the league in anything (well, runs once and hits twice — unless you include ABs and PAs), never won an MVP, made the most outs in Yankee history.

      I’m so glad he’s gone. Let the hagiography begin.

      • DjangoZ says:

        I have a serious question: how do we evaluate Jeter when so many of his best comparisons end in “…for a shortstop”, but he was a woefully bad shortstop defensively?

        I definitely think he’s a HOF-er, but, yeah, calling him the greatest or one of the greatest always seems weird to me because he was a great hitter…for a shortstop. Otherwise he’s a very good hitter who played very well for a long time.

        I read an article that compared Paul Molitor to Derek Jeter, they have very similar career offensive numbers, and, of course, Molitor played alot of DH. Does Jeter deserve to be rated above Molitor because at least he did play SS, even if it was badly? Or are they essentially players of the same value? I’m genuinely not sure on that one.

      • Luis SoHo says:

        Red Sox fans just can’t be happy for themselves, can they?

      • NevadaMark says:

        I don’t know Dave. I’ve watched that replay many times and it sure looks like after that ball bounced it wasn’t reaching Posada in time for a play. Posada may be wrong here.

        Jeter was a terrific player but I never thought of him as exactly charismatic. Rather bland, actually.

    • Brandan says:

      Five world series rings. Fourth most hits of all time. Not having the stigma of being a PHD user. Hell playing 20 seasons with a life time .310 average is hard enough. He’s the idol of baseball. He’s what you want your kid to strive to be like. Bust your tail every at bat and every play. He thrived in New York City. Randy Johnson couldn’t do that and I’d say he was pretty good at tossing a ball around. The only thing overrated is your poor opinion. But the great thing about America is were allowed to voice them. Take care and God bless.

  5. David in Toledo says:

    Wonderful, Joe. Wonderful mix of stories within stories. I was tempted to try newspaper work but I didn’t get beyond a year with the college rag because I REALLY don’t like working with deadlines.

    I waited to write this until I was sure my deadline had passed. Then I composed very slowly.

  6. Spencer says:


    Chill out. Jeter is overrated. I agree with that. I’m quite certain Joe agrees with that too.

    But it’s still ok to write about a fun moment in a hall of famer’s career. Joe isn’t waxing poetic about leadership or hustle or some magic pixie dust Jeets sprinkles on the baseball. You have the wrong target here. There are plenty of terrible columns being written about jeter this week. Go comment on them, this isn’t one of them.

  7. Tekz1 says:

    What a great story,thank you for taking my imagination back in time,as if I was there

  8. Herb Smith says:

    Heck, Poz invented the term “Jeterate.” Like all of us, he’s quite aware that Jeter is rated far higher than similarly productive shortstops (like Barry Larkin and Alan Trammell).

    I think that he was trying to explain WHY that is so. In this article, Joe seems to sat that it’s a unique combination of right place/right time, the old-time baseball writers’ desire to create heroic figures, the setting of New York, NY, and, yes, Jeter’s own charisma and knack for coming up big in pressurized moments.

    Yeah, yeah, I know that, like Reggie Jackson and Bob Gibson and Babe Ruth and Sandy Koufax, he’s also failed at huge moments too. But great players do usually play great baseball, and despite all the negative backlash from decades of Jeterating, it’s occasionally fair to acknowledge that, yes, even without all the hype, he’s a HOFer.

    Anyway, I watched every inning of that 2001 Series, and it’s still the most incredible playoff series in ANY sport that I’ve ever seen. I was rooting AGAINST the Yankees, and yet even I knew how special that Jeter HR moment was.

    And I’d have paid good money to be there in the stands singing “New York, NY” that night. I got chills just from reading the end of this article.

  9. invitro says:

    A fine tale, one that maybe I’d enjoy more if I hadn’t heard it so many times. But I’d rather have read more about Bip’s rip.

  10. I wonder if Arizona fans(assuming there are any) react to the Jeter Home Run reminisces the same way Reds fans react to the Carlton Fisk highlights. As in “Hey who won that series anyway?”

    • Peachy says:

      I think Schilling summed up our attitude pretty well with the crack about Mystique and Aura sounding like dancers in a nightclub. There’s something faintly ridiculous about the Yankee love in the best of times, and it’s extra-silly when, you know, the other team *wins the World Series*.

      • Uhh you do know that the Yankees won the next two games w/ walk off HR’s and forced the series back to AZ right? Schilling has admitted that was a a big screw up on his part.

        • nightfly says:

          They forced the series back to Arizona… where they dropped games six and seven… where Arizona rallied in their final at-bat against Mo Rivera, in part because Joe Torre didn’t play his infielders at DP depth and a soft liner dropped pretty much exactly where Mr. November would have normally stood.

  11. Tom says:

    Jeterate that. Some guys just have the magic. And you can’t quantify it.

    • DjangoZ says:

      More like “most fans aren’t able to sufficiently overcome their confirmation bias and have a terrible time remembering the overall play of any individual player, they remember moments and that’s all.”

  12. And now Jeter has turned his last home game into a Gatorade commercial. You can’t make this stuff up.

    • owenpoin says:

      Sorry to nitpick, but sure I can.

      It’s August 15, 2015, and rebound seasons from Sabathia and Pineda have kept the Yankees afloat as they field an impressive but inconsistent squad of mostly 30-somethings with their best years behind them. Abortive runs at Hanley and Tulo (which was mostly speculative anyway) have left them with a combination of Dean Anna, the return of Stephen Drew, and occasionally A-Rod, who seems to be selfishly defying everyone’s wishes every time he takes the field, despite a respectable .244/.320/.451 line, have left the Bombers with a forgettable 0.2 WAR out of the shortstop position. They’re only three and a half behind the first place Jays, and a game out of the wild card, but it’s become clear that this is the result of the Yankees playing over their heads. A cautious trade deadline netted them Bartolo Colon from the Rangers and a flagging Jay Bruce, but a school of feistier teams makes the Yankees an easy mark to stop outperforming their run differential and fall out of the race.

      “Put me in coach.”

      Joe Girardi looked up.


      “I’m serious. I want to come back. I’m bored. I can’t stand doing more talk shows. My SNL appearance was a nightmare. People won’t leave me alone, even at Angkor Wat.”

      “Derek, you’re…probably not in game shape.”

      “False.” Somehow Girardi couldn’t argue with that.

      “We’d have to clear it with Brian.”

      “Already have. I’ll make the minimum.”

      Girardi pulled off his cap and scratched his aged head.

      “Derek are you sure about this?”

      It’s the end of September. Jeter has slapped out a .268/.322/.334, but since he’s come back, the Yankees can’t stop winning. They are guaranteed a spot in the play-in game, and, can you believe it, a win against the Jays young fireballer Marcus Stroman gives them the division. It’s the bottom of the 8th, A-Rod and Gardner on base. Jeter at the plate.

      He swings at the first pitch, a dribbler down the first-base line. Gardner speeds home, the tying run if he can get there before the third out. Stroman pounces on the ball, practically on top of the first-base line. He reaches to tag Jeter…and the ball squibs away! A-Rod scores too! Betances blows them away in the 9th and the game is over!

      “How does it feel to be back in the playoffs?” ask the reporters.

      “I totally slapped the ball out of Marcus’ hand,” says Jeter.

  13. James says:

    When I was a kid, my uncle worked for the Cleveland Plain Dealer, and he got us press passes for the 1977 All Star game at Yankee Stadium. It was tremendous, We got to walk on the field during warmups. I still remember Dave Parker and Dave Winfield having a catch, hearing the ball whistle. Joe Morgan at batting practice, jerking his elbow, lacing into balls. Dave Parker scoring from first on a hit from George Foster.

    One standout memory for me is being in the press box and listening to one reporter file his radio report. It was the 9th inning, the NL was up 7-3 and the game was over. He is taping his 1 minute radio report when all of a sudden George Scott hits a two run homer. My memory is crack of the bat and the reporter yelling “Shit”. The report was ruined as the score had changed. At the end of the game, it didn’t make a difference and the game ended 7-5. The reporter redid the story, just changed the final score.

  14. zeke bob says:

    I’m not a fan of either the Diamondbacks or the Yanks, and while I’ve always respected Jeter, that “Mr. November” nickname sounded stupid the first time I heard it 13 years ago and it sounds even more ridiculous now because, you know, Arizona WON the series, and the performances of Schilling and Johnson were the dominant acts.

    If anything, I always thought Randy Johnson deserved the Mr. November moniker more, if he didn’t already have an awesome nickname, for retiring all 4 batters he faced for the game 7 win one night after pitching seven innings. You’re not likely to see that again.

  15. You’re daughter is on to something, methinks — there of course was e-mail in 2001.

  16. So no Internet connection in the press box in 2001?

  17. EnzoHernandez11 says:

    And then the Series went back to Phoenix, Jeter went 1 for 6 in the last two games, Mariano Rivera coughed up the lead in the 9th inning of Game 7, and the D-Backs won the championship, the end.

  18. Mike says:

    Relax people. Yes, there are many Yankee fans who overdo it. You’re missing the point. If your favorite player on your favorite team did something really cool at a really cool time you would be thrilled. And a big deal would be made about it.

    Or else you don’t REALLY like sports and you’re just trolling (in which case 2/10 for effort). Just like if your favorite player on your favorite team did something disgraceful you would be devastated and it would be a big deal.

    Joe wrote a nice column about being there and portrayed the feeling in the stadium at that moment better than any other human being could.

    Appreciate it. Or you’re not REALLY a fan of great sportswriting.

    • DjangoZ says:

      With most players this wouldn’t be an issue, and you know that.

      Jeter is in a class by himself in many ways.

    • Agreed, we don’t cut down Carlton Fisk because the Reds won. Joe’s moment is more to the point of why Jeter is great, but not the greatest. He’s jeterated perfectly. He did great things on a great stage and in this case with his bat. He was good with the bat in the playoffs, I won’t call him clutch, cut he wasn’t a choker and had some great moments. Not everyone can say that. Part of that reason is because he was a part of a great team that kept returning to the World Series. He turned the flip play in the playoffs when it mattered. Yes, Giambi should’ve slid, but just having the foresight to be there when Spencer overthrows 2 guys is great. No one knows for sure if that play gets made anyway, but I don’t think it does. He had a truly great season in 99 where his defence was adequate rather than terrible and he hit very well in the playoffs and World Series that the Yanks won. He’s among the Top 10 Shortstops and if he had moved positions like Yount did he’d still be top 10. I think he’s somewhere around 5 despite his defence being truly poor for the last half of his career. Ripken, Wagner are miles ahead and I think Trammell is behind him, with guys like Larkin, Ozzie, Appling, Vaughan and Yount somewhere around him. His bat is a lot better than most of these guys.

  19. Carl says:


    One minor quibble. The Bleacher Creatures were in right field, not left field at the old Yankee Stadium. Left field had Monument Park where the equivalent space of the Bleacher Creatures were.

    • They are in both places. Each side chants obscenities to the other side. I’ve been part of a “F you!” “A-Hole!” chant. The ones on the right do roll call. Maybe that’s what you mean.

  20. mark says:

    Lots of bitter hate here. It’s not clever and it’s not becoming.

    • EnzoHernandez11 says:

      Nah, we’re just having fun. Look, we all agree Derek Jeter was a great player and a no-doubt-about-it first ballot Hall of Famer. But there’s something about the over-the-top sendoff he’s been receiving that just begs for a little snark. We’ve all seen great players go into retirement before, but nobody has milked the final act the way Jeter has (though Mariano Rivera came close).

      I mean, think of all the players, the ones far better than Jeter, who have retired in your lifetime. George Brett didn’t get this kind of sendoff. Neither did Maddux. Hell, I go back a ways and I can tell you that Willie Mays himself did not get treated like this in his final year (I know, pre-ESPN, pre-internet, but still…). Of course, part of the reason for this is that most players don’t announce their retirement a year in advance.

      So, anyway, no bitterness here, and certainly no hate. Derek Jeter wasn’t my favorite player, but his greatness was obvious despite the efforts of the New York hagiographers to turn him into a plaster saint. And, yeah, that moment on November 1, 2001, was pretty cool and I did enjoy reading about it again.

      Still, the Diamondbacks did win the series. 🙂

  21. retrofella says:

    How about the 14 times the Yankees DIDN’T win the championship during Jeter’s tenure? I mean, he batted .309 for his career… that means he didn’t get a hit 69% OF THE TIME, people. And even last night, I’m sure that Robertson wouldn’t have given up those two home runs to tie the game if Brendan Ryan was at short. That’s how bad a fielder Jeter is.

    The Yankees should trade him while he still has some value. Maybe the Mets will give up a prospect to get him for three games?

  22. Reagan says:

    Well, I liked the article. Some of these comments, though… Not cool.

  23. nightfly says:

    The story about the paper deadlines reminds me of one of my favorite Simpsons moments: the college nerds staying with the family have unplugged the television while the kids were watching Itchy and Scratchy – just when the cat is finally about to exact painfully over-the-top vengeance on the mouse.

    PLUG IT BACK IN! PLUG IT BACK IN! the kids shriek in horror.
    “Plug in what?” the nerd asks. “The TV or the rock tumbler?”
    THE TV! THE TV! they cry.

    Too late. They’re just in time to hear see Krusty come back on with a “WHOA! They’ll never let us show that again in a million years!”

    My son will never get that joke. He was born into a world of On Demand, DVD collections, rewindable TV broadcasts and replays, and YouTube clips. He won’t even understand why they had to change the channels with a dial on the set, and what those sticks on the top were. It might as well be Etruscan.

  24. MikeN says:

    Something strange about Jeter highlights from his last game being a double (re)play to his left. I assume a regular shortstop would have done it faster, though I can’t see it.

  25. MikeN says:

    So how did all the reporters in that Series miss Jeter grabbing players at second to keep them from advancing?

  26. Bill Caffrey says:

    Ironically, the 2001 World Series was by far Jeter’s worst World Series and one of his worst post-season series out of the 33 he played. His slash line for the 2001 WS? .148/.179/.259

  27. Scooter says:

    What a wonderful story. I got chills reading it. You really can capture a moment.

    By the way, for that Series, I was on my honeymoon, in rural Connecticut, with no TV or access to anything electronic. So I listened to the games on a little transistor radio, and in the morning I’d go get the paper at the local drug store, and read the game story from the night before last — the games kept ending too late to make our edition. I really enjoyed following things that way, with the radio and the day-old newspaper stories. Your talk of the different deadlines just reminded me of that.

  28. […] Mr. November – I don’t doubt you’re sick of me posting Jeter stories but this one has a bit of a secondary effect. As the Royals run through these playoffs – their first since 1985 – you’re going to have to follow Joe Posnanski’s blog. Not only is it incredibly well written, he’s unapologetically a Royals fan. He’s been waiting 29 years for this stuff. He’s writing from the gut. That’s the best kind. […]

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *