There is no one on this Earth who hates the Yankees more than I do. I hated them when they had Mantle, Berra, Maris and Ford. I hated them when they had Jackson, Hunter, and Munson. And I've especially hated them since they had Jeter. Let me clarify: I hate the Yankees down to my very marrow; I hate pinstripes and interlocking letters; I hate the words Bronx and Bombers; I even hate goofballs like Rickey Henderson, Mickey Rivers, and Joe Pepitone; however, it is completely impossible for me or anyone else to hate Derek Jeter.
If ever there were an athlete who exemplified the highest ideals of his sport it has been Derek Jeter. Calm especially in clutch situations, intelligent in his approaches on the field and at the plate, efficient in his movements, Jeter has been the model for all professional athletes. I believe in my lifetime only John Havilcek comes close. When Jeter defeated you, he did so in a respectful manner, The Jackal in pinstripes. Red Sox pitchers were forever trying to unnerve him, throwing up and in to get him to back off the plate. No matter how many times they made him eat the dirt around home plate or even hit him, he'd gather himself and, without a peep, he'd adjust his helmet, nod at the pitcher completely without irony, stand a little closer, and slash the next pitch the opposite way into the vast expanse of Fenway's right field. I must have seen him do that a hundred times. If there were a man on second, it was almost a certainty. And if it were late innings of a tight game, it was as close to a sure thing as there has ever been in baseball.
Off the field Jeter is something of a mystery, albeit a non controversial one. I like that. I don't really want to know about his off the field activities. I admire him as a baseball player. How he spends his free time is none of my business as long as he isn't breaking the law. The only things being broken by Jeter are just about every postseason hitting record in baseball.
Jeter is a cool, updated version of Achilles, the Greek hero of The Trojan War. Both were the products of mixed marriages, combining the best qualities of their parents. Jeter's parents were both teachers who instructed him well. He respects the game and his opponents. Both were fierce and inspirational on the battlefield, Achilles' rage the counterpoint to Jeter's scary calm.
Both were eventually felled by injuries in the foot region. Achilles took an arrow to his heel, the one unprotected area of his body. Jeter broke a balky left ankle fielding a tough ground ball (saving a run in the process). The arrow ended Achilles' life. Whether Jeter's baseball life is over remains to be seen.
How the Yankees will respond with their Captain reduced to cheerleader is anybody's guess. It's hard to imagine that they will be able to overcome the loss of Jeter, especially facing formidable opponents like Verlander, Cabrera and the Tigers. But here's the thing:
Just this one time, I'll be rooting for the Yankees.
And that is a sentence I never thought I'd write!
Ain't life grand?
J
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