So Long, Andy and Mo

Baseball has a long season. It starts with the opening of Spring Training in late February, and usually ends at the beginning of November. Even for the worst teams, even if it's short-lived, there's a strange sense of hope that "this could be the season."  Baseball is a lot like life. It's a long, hard grind, one hundred and sixty-two games, five or six games a week. Who starts the season in first place doesn't necessarily end up there in October. There are many variables for a team's success. Talent is important, but in the end, it's often the team with the most talent, fewest injuries, and some luck that succeeds.

For Yankee fans, 2013 was the realization the glory days were coming to an end. In thirteen years, they won five World Series. The other years, they usually made it to the post season. A large part of that success was do to "The Core Four," Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada, Andy Petite, and Mariano "Mo" Rivera. In 2011 Posada retired. At the end of 2012, Rivera announced 2013 would be his last season. Due to injury, Jeter spent most of 2013 on the bench. And less than two weeks ago, Petite said this would be his last hurrah.

From April until June, the Yankees were in first place. Knowing that it would be Mo's last season, most fans thought, one more for Mo. It would be the perfect Hollywood ending. But a couple of weeks before Summer officially arrived, they fell out of first. For the rest of the season, they remained close to a Wild Card spot. There was still hope. Besides, the second half of the season was "Say Good-Bye to Mo Time."

For every road series in which the Yankee's played their last game, that team presented Mo with fare-well presents and wishes. It was touching and lots of fun. By late August, one knew the clock was ticking, but there was still more baseball to play, and still the hope that the Yankees could win one more for Mo.

Then September came. Andy Petite announced his retirement. It added to the sadness of Mo retiring. Andy and Mo were part of the Core Four. After 2013, only Jeter would remain. It was imperative that the Yankees make the post season.

Last week, through their loses and other team victories, the Yankees were eliminated from a Wild Card berth. The time had come for Yankee fans to face reality - an era had ended.

Last night I watched Andy Petite gain the final victory of his career. It was a 2-1 win over the Houston Astros, and a complete game - his first since 2006. He is the all-time Yankees strike-out leader and tied for first in career starts with Whitey Ford. He is also a five time World Series champ. Will he make it to the Hall of Fame? That is yet to be determined.

Mo Rivera is the greatest relief pitcher in Major League history with 652 regular season saves and 42 in the  post season. Last Sunday on t.v. I watched him say good-bye to thousands of fans at Yankee Stadium. Last Thursday on t.v., I watched Andy Petite and Derek Jeter walk to the mound to take him out of the game. Endings are a part of life. They are not easy to face, but we all face them. There's a lot that could be said about endings, and this ending, in particular. Derek Jeter said it best. When he approached Mo on the mound, he smiled, and simply said, "It's time to go."

Where Have All the Good Times Gone?

Most holidays give me the Willies. They seem forced, canned, and stifling. I like the day off, but I loathe the day. It reminds me of being part of the herd. It is the time to low, chew cud, and not be milked, branded, or herded. It is respite, but not true relief.

Yesterday, was Labor Day, and I had no expectations. I woke up in a humid steam bath. Instead of praising and reveling in this season, I cursed it, and took a shower. I took Pepito for a walk, but walking was such an effort. I daydreamed I was an terrestrial creature that decided the land was no place for me. I ambled to the shore, and walked into the ocean. I turned into a whale, and was finally happy. That was a pleasant thought for a few moments, then I woke up to reality, sweating and miserable. I drove home.

Arriving home, I was told that my ex-brother-in-law (we're still close) and his family would be coming over for the afternoon. It seemed like a good idea. It would be a chance to grill, which I love doing, and maybe, it would get my mind off the stickiness.

I set myself to the task of gathering Egg Plants, Green Beans, Cayennes, Cow Horns from the garden. I washed, cut them up, and seasoned them, then put them aside. Sweat was trickling down my face like little rivulets of prayerful angst in a sacred grotto. I went outside to light the fire. Being so humid, it took me three attempts before I was able to start up the coals. By the time the guests arrived, the food was cooking away, and I was quite satisfied in spite of being soaked like a much used sponge.

We had a grand time. We ate, recalled old times, talked of the present, mused about future, and we laughed a lot. It made me remember Labor Day's gone by when the family used to gather like it was breathing. These days, we don't mark the holidays with such vigor. They come, they go, and we say, "I can't believe it's already September." As the Kinks once said, "Where have all the good times gone?"

Yesterday, I found the good times again. They came in the form of people gathering to eat and share. They made me forget the humidity, and reminded me that, people are important. Yes, I am a member of "the Herd." I often loathe that name, but that's who I am to some extent, and from time to time, we all need to gather and to celebrate. It's not only delightful, but very essential.