Exit Sandman? Closing in on the end of a Yankee great

It was inevitable, I suppose. Either through a sudden, jarring injury or the unavoidable decline that comes with the years, Mariano Rivera was going to toss his last pro pitch. Perhaps the ACL tear that will undoubtedly end his 2012 campaign will not prove to be the end of his career, but the collective feeling in the wake of this unfortunate situation is that it has. Either way, it's got me thinking.

The first of five World Series wins
for the greatest closer of all time.
Photo courtesy of ibtimes.com

What makes Mariano Rivera so special? Of course, he holds claim to the most all-time saves in both the regular season and postseason. He's also compiled some astounding statistics: a 2.21 career ERA, including an unthinkable .70 runs against in the playoffs. He has five World Series rings. There's a World Series and ALCS MVP to boot (remember that he plays just one or two innings a game, if at all). That's just the tip of the iceberg. These reasons are enough for Rivera to land unanimously in Cooperstown, and to be widely recognized as the greatest closer to ever play the game of baseball. But to me, there's something else about Mo that sets him apart.


It's the most recognizable thing about him. Even my own mother can appreciate it. So can yours. It's something engrained in the American psyche, something that transcends sports and hearkens us back to olden days.


He's a Yankee.

How much will the pinstripes have to do with
how Rivera is remembered?
Photo courtesy of sportsrantz.com

The fact that Mariano Rivera was a uniquely dominant player for fifteen Major League seasons will make him a legend in his own right. But the countless images of him donned in pinstripes are what guarantee that my children and grandchildren will grow up knowing his name. I  vividly recall stepping put to the plate in kindergarten and first grade, envisioning myself as the Babe, and pointing out to deep center field. The next generation's young pitchers will walk to the mound, imagining Enter Sandman blasting in their ears. Why? Because their fathers will tell them about it. Babe Ruth is remembered as the best baseball player of all time, but also, somehow even more impressively, the greatest Yankee. Rivera, too, will enter that fabled club of Yank legends who will eternally elude being replaced in the hearts and minds of Americans, even as memories of greats like Walter Johnson fade in the general population. Tales of their legend will be passed on for eternity. Of course, one does not need to be a Bronx Bomber to be remembered forever. Ty Cobb, Hank Aaron, Jackie Robinson and Willie Mays are just a few of many who are guaranteed to be remembered as long as the sport survives. But I cannot shake the notion that the Yankees have something special about them. I don't think that it was a coincidence that I dreamt as a kid of being Babe Ruth, not Stan Musial. The Yankees of old personified more than baseball. They even transcended it. Mariano Rivera ensured that this tradition would continue into the new millennium.

But there's something else to it as well. For the first time in my relatively young life, I feel a little bit old. With the coming retirement of Mariano Rivera, in my opinion the greatest Yankee of his generation, I imagine our forefathers in the crowd at Yankee Stadium in the first half of the 20th Century, when Ruth, Gehrig, Dimaggio, Mantle and Berra ruled the stage. And then I look at myself, having just borne witness to what very well could be the final image of the great Yank in uniform. If not now, I will in a few years all the same. My grandchildren will look back at the storied stadium and think of me sitting in the bleachers as Mo tossed aside batter after batter with that cut fastball. The cycle will continue. Rivera's tragic injury yesterday reminded me that the years are indeed rolling by.

The guys who started it all.
Photo courtesy of files.nyu.edu

I am not a New York Yankees fan. Not by a long shot. But I am what you would call a sentimental baseball fan. And for that reason, I appreciate them. I love three things about the national pastime: the Washington Nationals, the unique and beautiful experience of attending a game, and the magic of the sport. The Yankees of old played a huge part in establishing this magic, and Rivera has, over the last fifteen seasons, kept the ball rolling.

Whether you really are done or not, Mariano Rivera, thank you. Your accomplishments have established you as one of the best to don the pinstripes, and, therefore, one of the best to play the game. While I often rooted against your team, never did I lose sight of what you were giving to the game. Here's hoping the magic will continue.