Opinion: The Series' glorious diversions

Even if the games themselves had been ordinary, this year's World Series would have been memorable for having played out against the bleak backdrop of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. As it turned out, of course, the games were extraordinary by any measure. The lordly New York Yankees, transformed into the lovable mascots of a wounded city and nation, provided nightly heroics before finally showing their mortality. In the end, the Arizona Diamondbacks -- the 4-year-old fraternal twins of our beleaguered Devil Rays -- brought down the world's most gloried sports franchise by summoning resilience they didn't even know they had. Curt Schilling's and Randy Johnson's throwing arms should be filing OSHA claims.

The proud but aging Yankees, winners of four of the previous five Fall Classics, had to pull off several near-miracles just to make it to the World Series. They started the playoffs by losing two games at home to the swaggering Oakland A's, owners of baseball's best second-half record. Then they had to get past the Seattle Mariners, who had tied the 1906 Chicago Cubs' record of 116 regular-season wins.

All that was merely prelude to the Series itself. After the Diamondbacks won two games at home, the teams traveled to the hallowed -- and heavily protected -- confines of Yankee Stadium. Not in 72 years had a team won a World Series game after trailing by two or more runs in the ninth inning. The Yankees proceeded to win two games on consecutive nights after trailing by two runs with two out in the bottom of the ninth. The cathartic Bronx cheers resounded from coast to coast.

It almost didn't matter that the Yankees eventually lost the decisive Game 7 back in Arizona, with the Diamondbacks rallying from a ninth-inning deficit. Long after the final score is forgotten, fans will remember the grace of Derek Jeter, the grit of Mark Grace and the stoic calm of Joe Torre. Tampa Bay fans will forever honor Tino Martinez and Luis Gonzalez, low-key homegrown stars whose clutch hits opened and closed the theatrics.

In the big picture, it was all meaningless. But as meaningless diversions go, it was a dandy one. The games didn't make New Yorkers and other Americans forget the gaping hole in our collective spirit, and we now know better than to call the players heroes. Still, for a few glorious autumn nights, they exemplified what Churchill meant after Dunkirk when he said, "We shall fight them in the fields. . . . We shall never surrender."

Contact the Times | Privacy Policy
Standard of Accuracy | Terms, Conditions & Copyright