Those fans seemed to know when the ninth inning started on Tuesday evening that the Yankees were going to win. They seemed to know this in a different way from, say, the hope that floods Fenway Park or Dodger Stadium or Busch Stadium in the ninth inning. Obviously this is only my perception. But it didn’t feel like “hope.” That word suggests doubt or at least hesitation. ...[T]he vibe I was picking up in the stadium was not IF the Yankees would win but HOW the Yankees would win...

This of course made me think of the Hebrews 11:1 kind of hope, bearing little resemblance what we mean & understand when we use & hear that word now. And he's right, especially the "how" part.

Jorge Posada stepped to the plate as a pinch hitter. The roar overwhelmed. ... Seems to me there’s something spellbinding, a blend of sadness and joy, that comes with watching the player who brought you so many thrills, once the bat speed dulls by two-hundredths of a second, once the line drives turn to ground outs, once the old home runs die on the warning track. The sadness is obvious. But there’s joy, too, because, you never know, he might, just might, do it again.

Yes, and THAT bit right there is spellbinding. *tears*

Has any athlete in the history of New York (or the history of anywhere) given fans a more assured feeling than Mariano Rivera? I would suggest: No.

:D

I’m not talking about fans believing. I’m talking about fans knowing. It’s subtle and it could be my imagination. But that’s how I hear it. If Curtis Granderson had made an out, I think a lot of fans would have felt surprise first, then depression.

Also :D . A former boss refused to participate in a Mega Millions pool because he had vowed never to play again after a brief stint in a college dorm pool, during which, after every loss, he was (by his own admission unreasonably) first surprised and then crushed. "I was like, 'Oh MAN, I can't BELIEVE I didn't WIN! How'm I gonna buy that plane now?' I was always devastated." And no, he's not dum... Yalie, HLS, crazily impressive erudite dude who can turn a phrase like no one you've ever heard - I could listen to him talk all day every day, and miss that pleasure. And he's right too - it's funny how some things don't give you any real basis for it and yet you elpis-hope them.

He mentions Carl Crawford. They were talking on sc last night about how he hasn't been running. The psychology of this fascinates me. For years he was utterly unquestioningly self-assured, almost to the point of taking his speed and basestealing ability for granted ("Who's faster than you?" "You tell me!" "No one." "That's right" - no arrogance, no attitude, not even a smile; he simply agreed). But no one was watching at the tin-can backwater stadium where he grew up. Now he is, I would guess, freezing up due to the psychotic fan base that is probably heckling him daily on the street, etc., regardless of how well he might be doing, if others' private reports are to be believed. THIS IS (ANOTHER REASON) WHY PEOPLE WATCH BASEBALL. Yes, flat-earthers: humans, not robots, play the game. I *AGREE* with you and it is a huge part of why I watch.

[Teixeira] is a wonderful player to watch because nothing ever looks too difficult for him. He has the gift.

True, and I love having him here. Radiates decency.

Earlier in the game, [Juan Rivera, who usually does not play first] had snagged a hard-hit Robinson Cano ground ball with Yankees runners on base but it looked like pure luck. On replay it was clear that Rivera’s head snapped up when the ball arrived and his glove only happened to end up in the right place. It was not likely that he would make two plays like that in one game. And, in the bottom of the ninth, with the swirl of expectation all around him, he did not.

This writer has a gift for building suspense and momentum during sentences and passages. I'm certain it has nothing to do with the subject matter but this is my favorite post of his thus far.