The Morning After

There is a quiet hanging over New York City this morning.

Thursday, downside of the week, is typically subdued but today more than usual. You can feel it on the street, you could hear it on the subway with the absence of baseball talk. You could see it in the faraway look and vacant stares of those few Yankee fans still proud enough to wear their hats. What happened last night was unimaginable.

The Yankees lost the American League Championship Series, but worse than that, they lost in 7 games. Worse still, they were up 3 games to none with plenty of chances to close it out and they didn’t. The absolute, positively worst aspect, it was to the Boston Red Sox, their favorite, perennial whipping boys. Like the changing of the leaves, a Yankee humiliation of the Boston franchise (and their fans) was an annual fall occurrence. Last night the unthinkable happened and New Yorkers are now trying to wrap their brains around it. Are they canceling Christmas this year too?

Where I live, in upper Manhattan, several blocks west of the Stadium, I heard a sound I’ve never heard before following the conclusion of the game; Boston fans actually celebrating in our streets. So exhilarated, so emboldened by the team’s accomplishments, fans were brazen enough to drive down Broadway whooping and hollering. Shortly afterwards, police sirens could also be heard, and I can only surmise that New Yorkers reminded them of where they were.

Truth be told, I am a Mets fan. Have been my whole life. But I am a New Yorker first, so I sided with the “other” home team in what has become our near annual act of civic loyalty. Being a Mets fan has taught me how to accept losing in ways Yankee fans can’t fully comprehend. They are devastated. I am resigned and philosophical. They are questioning if the sun still sets in the west. I accept this as the inevitable end of the season for baseball in New York. I know that next year both teams will try again, hopefully with better results. They are already talking about off season acquisitions.

Ironically, I can probably relate to Boston fans moreso than my crosstown compatriots. The Bronx Bombers operate with a machine-like precision that leaves other teams in shock and awe. Beating the Yankees in the manner in which they did is a tremendous accomplishment, one for the record books. But Red Sox Nation needs to keep their eyes on the prize.

Destroying the evil empire mustn’t be the goal. They can’t let down now. Winning the World Series is the goal, and if they fail to do that, the miraculous come from behind ALCS victory will be little comfort. Yankee fans will still get to chant “1918″ next year, when they no doubt face each other again.