NEW YORK, N.Y., Nov. 4, 2001 — You would have thought the boy (young, yes, but soon to be a teenager) wouldn’t have been so naive, so childish, so immature. But there he was, red-faced and frustrated, saying things to the big old Philco in the living room that go beyond blasphemy. You certainly never would have guessed that this youth would spend some early years in a seminary, studying to be a Catholic priest.

“If you’re such a great God, I wanna see Tommy Tresh crush this next one and send the fans home happy. I don’t ask for much. I’m thinkin’ of giving up my whole life. It’s not that much to ask.”

The Yankees had fallen on hard times, the losses were piling up, and although what was ending was an earlier incredible Yankee run, that didn’t mean much to a kid who was pretty new to the party. And then the Sixties became “The Sixties.” Although I have spent a lot of time since then trying to stop examining the events, their effect on this country, and the way I responded to them, self-delusion notwithstanding, I am pretty well convinced that the eventual choices I made in life were not simply a response to a God who wouldn’t give “what I want [or] need.”

It may seem silly to give the musings of a preteen serious consideration at this point in my life, but I learned back then that the things I witnessed this week in Yankee Stadium just don’t happen. I learned that disappointment plays a big part in life and in what makes a man a man, and that opening oneself to all the joy that’s to be found out there plays just as big a part. So this is not just your garden-variety “mature man regretting the folly of his youth” essay. No, that “child [was] the father of the man” I am now (with apologies to Gerard Manley Hopkins). Or perhaps Bob Dylan put it better: “I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.” That was the Dan that became the Yankee fan, and the Dan I am now can only look back gratefully at him.

The Dan in front of the Philco made a lifelong choice, and probably took it too seriously to enjoy it. But the Dan that sits in front of this computer celebrates it to this day, and will tomorrow. I missed most of the 1950’s/1960’s run, and even the 1970’s, though glorious, were more about redemption than (living in the) present satisfaction. The run that ended tonight has been the most joyous experience of my life, and the fact that it culminates 50 days after one of the worst days just makes it that much more special.

Crushed after the ninth-inning loss? You bet. But I still think Mo is the best there ever was. I give the D’backs all the credit in the world, from the guys who fashioned the comeback to their two-headed pitching machine, the World Series co-MVPs. Best World Series I ever saw — at least until next year, when we’ll be back. We’ll look different, but we’ll be back. After all, Tresh, for one, is 64.

YANKEE BASEBALL!!!