Watching the fourth Yankees/Sox game two nights ago morph from a dull start into a splendid climax came this reminder – above all, it’s the game that holds us. Not this game, not that game. Any game. Always was, after a youthful partisan past maybe, always will be. Hours after our painful departure from proceedings it had reasserted itself – its power to entertain, hold our attention and, often, delight.
You come to identify an incidental benefit there can be, an advantage in being a stage removed emotionally from the result of this AL game that lies in wait. No gut wrenching, no anger, no wrenching disappointment. There will be plenty of that next year when we again put on our fighting blue caps, our chopping tomahawks. It’s hard to recognize and admit sometimes but the game itself will always best any parochial game, even a Braves one! It’s the scope, the endurance that is infinite, a composite whole, that holds us.
Meanwhile, simply savor the greatest game in the world right now, its complexities, its subtleties, its aesthetic pleasures – there’s more to come. Down to four, down to two, then one stands alone. We hope to do that, soon. But while we wait let us be grateful for what we will always have, the game and the motley crew of thousands who play it so skillfully for our pleasure.