My wife reminds me that we met after Game 1 of the 2001 World Series, but flying past the site of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks en route to Newark International Airport for Games 3-5 also left a vivid, albeit chilling, memory.
It all came to a head in Game 7 in arguably the most dramatic finish in Series history.
Let’s face it, the 2001 World Series provided this country with a wide spectrum of emotions and a temporary moment of healing from one of the world’s biggest tragedies.
The matchup was surreal. Roger Clemens vs. Curt Schilling. The Old Guard (Yankees) vs. the New Regime (Diamondbacks).
The Yankees were trying to squeeze one more year out of an aging cast and already had their sights set on signing Jason Giambi.
The Diamondbacks were tired of hearing that they were composed of Randy Johnson and Schilling and 23 other guys.
Game 7 proved to be the ultimate test, in a ballpark with a retractable roof and under unseasonably warm conditions (even by Arizona standards in November) that turned windy as the game progressed.
As Alfonso Soriano correctly guessed on a Schilling split-finger fastball that sailed out of the park for a 2-1 Yankees lead in the eighth inning, I looked toward the Yankees’ bullpen to see Mariano Rivera warming up and thought: “This is over,” given Rivera’s postseason dominance.
The Diamondbacks, for all their spending ways and milking three starts out of Schilling in the Series, gave it their best shot but came up short. I started outlining my story as Rivera struck out the side in the eighth.
Milwaukee native and Scottsdale bar co-owner Tony Elias was so depressed that he left the park with his girlfriend.
But in the bottom of the ninth, Mark Grace led off with a single off Rivera, and now I can see why Ozzie Guillen is flirting with retirement if the Sox win the World Series.
The rally was so swift but maddening that when Tony Womack hit a game-tying double off Rivera, then-colleague at the Arizona Republic and Dolton native Dan Bickley said to me, “They’re actually going to win this thing.”
Luis Gonzalez’s game-winning bloop single off Rivera capped a 14-pitch, 10-minute rally. Elias, entering his fifth decade as a Scottsdale resident, didn’t know what happened until he asked a Phoenix police officer outside Bank One Ballpark.
I don’t remember Gonzalez’s hit as much as the likes of Grace, 42-year-old Mike Morgan and owner Jerry Colangelo soaking in the achievement.
Oh, and I recall driving home a tipsy but teary-eyed Elias and his sympathetic girlfriend at 3 a.m.
