One day, when I'm old and shot, and some little troublemaker who looks like me is in my lap after a Sunday dinner, I'm going to take the opportunity to pass onto him the desperate, passionate, eternal bond of the Yankee fan. I'll give him the greatest gift of all, the knowledge of history. I'm going to tell him all the great ghost stories I know. Babe and Gehrig. DiMaggio. Martin, Ford, and Mantle. Mantle and Maris. Chambliss. Jackson. Bucky Dent. Munson and Murcer. Mattingly. And then, having saved the best for last, I'll tell him about Derek Jeter. No matter how many heroes' names are still waiting to be written in the great, never-ending history of New York Yankees baseball, his will be the one foremost in my mind. His will be the last name I ever speak of in hushed, awestruck tones. T ...
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Article written by Tom Schecter