During the first weekend of June, 2003, my Yankees came to the North Side of Chicago for the first time since the 1938 World Series. It was a tough ticket to get. But the Friday game was delayed over an hour by rain, so I got on the Red Line and hoped for the best. I went to the Day of Game window and got lucky. Apparently some folks decided to skip the game on account of rain. I wound up with a seat in Aisle 36, ten rows behind the Yankees bullpen.
The first sight of a Yankees squad in Road Greys at Wrigley since the last year of Lou Gehrig's career began with Derek Jeter popping out of the visitor's dugout. There was no batting practicethat day, but the skys parted and all was clear before the first pitch. It was a lovely day for baseball after all.
The Yankees got out to a 5-0 lead early. David damn Wells hit a double! (Full disclosure-I was in line for a beer and watched that play on the TV above the right field line concession stand.)
Mariano Rivera was known to take naps during the early innings of a game. He liked to take the mound when he was at his peak-about an hour after the clubhouse boys woke him. In about the sixth inning he came out to join his bulpen mates. It didn't look like he would be needed that day, but stranger things have happened.
A little boy of about seven was sitting in the row in front of me with his dad. His dad pointed out Rivera to him and told him about what a special player he was. In between innings, the boy ran down to the famous brick wall with a small disposable camera. Mariano noticed him and smiled as the child line up his photograph. The kid ran back to his dad and was full of excitement. "That's great," the dad said. "Maybe next innning you can get his autograph.
After the next half inning, the boy ran back down with a ball and pen in hand. Mariano saw him again, but politely explained that he wasn't allowed to sign autographs during the game. "Come down after the last out of the game. I'll sign it then."
The score at the time was five to two. David Wells was in command of all his stuff. But then in the bottom of the eight inning, Corey Patterson hit a solo home run to tighten up the game. Antonio Asuna came in to get the last out of the inning, and Mariano began to warm up in earnest. He might just be needed after all.
The Yankees did not score in the top of the 9th, so Joe Torre brought in his big gun for the bottom half of the inning. Mariano was not perfect that day. He gave up two singles, but didn't allow a run. He Sop Choi struck out for the final out of the game. Final Score, Yankees 5, Cubs 3.
The Yankees dugout emptied and all the players casually slapped high fives in single-file. As the brief celebration ended, the players headed into to the clubhouse by way of the dugout. The boy was holding out hope for an autograph. The father of this kid was trying to let his son down easy. "Look, Mr. Rivera didn't know that he would be pitching when he promised to sign your ball." The kid looked devastated. I never wanted an autograph, even as a child trying to get Don Mattingly's attention, as I wanted this kid to get Mariano Rivera's signature. But it seemed not to be.
We all watched the Yankees file towards their dugout. Except one. Mariano Rivera, instead of heading for the dugout steps, turned toward right field and slowly walked out toward the bullpen. For a second I worried that he was just going to get his jacket or sunflower sseeds. But no, he was headed straight for the little kid in Aisle 36, Row 9.
When he got out by us, he pointed right at the kid and told him to come down to the railing. Mariano took the ball, signed his name on it and flipped it back to him. The boy ran back to his father, filled with joy.
A few grown ups started yelling for Mo to sign their stuff. He ignored them and trotted back to the dugout. More than one of the grown ups called him a name or two. They didn't know the whole story.
I've been a Yankees fan for over 40 yers. I can recite the name and statistics of my favorite players. I have their succession memorized: first Reggie Jackson, then Graig Nettles, followed by Don Mattingly, followed by Bernie Williams, followed by Mariano Rivera and then, for one year only, Derek Jeter. After that it's a little hazy. Favorite players are less important to adults. I am only a few years younger than Mariano Rivera. But when I heard the news today that he is the first unanimously chosen member of the baseball Hall of Fame, I got choked up.
The indelible image of Mariano Rivera is him trotting through the Bronx night while "Enter Sandman" plays over The Staidum's sound system, so he could put out a proverbial fire from the mound. But my strongest memory of him will always be him calmly walking down the right field line of the Friendly Confines with "Go Cubs Go" playing, so he could keep a promise to a kid in the stands.
The last 42 is the first 100. Congratulations, Mo.
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