New York Yankees

An in-his-prime Cy Young Award winning pitcher was making the start in Game One of the World Series on the hill at Yankee Stadium (one of the few stadiums left that does not receive money for naming rights). He completely dominates the Bronx Bombers power laden lineup, and out dueled the Yankees ace left handed pitcher.

The year was 1995.  I was 12-years old.  And I fell in love for the first time.

Hard. 

And anybody who was living in Seattle in the time can tell you who I fell for, because 1995 is perhaps the fondest year remembered in the modern Seattle era. 

If you are a catcher prospect, please contact the New York Yankees today. Immediate position available. Looking for a regular catcher starting 2012. Maybe before.

This is an employment ad you will not find in The New York Times. The word is traveling around all Yankee Stadium.

Phil Hughes hasn't been his dominant self this postseason, as has been very well documented. So far, his line reads:

4.2 IP, 9 H, 5 ER, 4 BB, 6 K.

That works out to a .557 BABIP, but it's not like he's been giving up weakly hit balls. Thirty-five percent of the batted balls against him have been line drives. Usually, I wouldn't be worried over a few bad innings. I mean, it happens to everyone.

In the minutes preceding the Yankees' miraculous, positively 2001-esque, one-run rally in the ninth inning last night against the Phillies, my friends and I attempted to glean any positive developments from a disheartening evening.

The conversation went something like this:

Dan: Um, CC battled through without his best stuff.

Howie: Yeah, definitely. 

(Awkward silence)

Howie: Marte did his job.

Dan: Oh yeah.

(Extended pause of sorrow)

Old glory never dies—it just repeats itself into oblivion.

The World Series isn’t what it was. It’s also, thankfully, still what it is. As America limps its way out of the Great Recession, there’s reason to doubt whether We the People will ever regain our position of global preeminence—which would be worse news if we couldn’t at least find peace in the praxis of our national pastime.

Habit is what you do without thought.

Ritual, on the other hand, is what you do to stop thinking.