Actually, I should have worded it in reverse: The Ecstasy and the Agony.
First came Ibanez’s improbable homer in the bottom of the ninth and the reaction of my not-favorite-person Valverde.
I couldn’t believe Raul did it again. Could. Not. Believe. It.
But the ecstasy didn’t last. Not only could the Yankees not score any more runs, but – curiously – Girardi went to Phelps instead of using Robertson for another inning, and things unraveled quickly. I could go on about Swisher’s somersault in right, not to mention his failures at the plate along with Cano’s, or A-Rod getting pulled for Chavez when others were struggling even more, or how angry Pettitte looked when he came out of the game, but all I really care about right now is this.
Seeing Jeter go down felt like Mo all over again and, as it turns out, their situations aren’t dissimilar: Jeter’s fractured ankle means he’s done for the rest of the the season. It was so hard to watch him not get up, to cry out in pain, to lean on others to carry him off the field. I’m still sick about it as I type this.
But I remind myself that he had a brilliant year, and no broken ankle will take that away from him. The Yankees will carry on and do their best for their captain. That’s all we can ask for.
As for the media, they need to stop talking about Jeet as if he died. No more eulogies. Seriously.