The Closer In A City Of Closers

ast summer, by far the shittiest summer I'd had in quite some time, I attended a Yankee game in the Bronx with a buddy. After the game, we hit Stan's. In Stan's I found a poster, this spot-on New York poster, which gave me a little perspective and hope. After a litany of bad news, the poster reminds the reader that, "We have the Yankees" and features a picture of Mariano Rivera on the mound.

On days like today, days when Rivera is not in the bullpen, but on his way to the disabled list with a torn ACL and, quite possibly, the end of his freakishly consistent and superb career, it's easy to say, "No, we had Rivera." Say what you will about Derek Jeter's intangibles and the Core Four, without Rivera do the Yankees achieve the success they have since '96? It can be argued that Rivera was the difference maker; the one player who set the Yankees apart from all the rest. The Yankees could play nine innings: With Mo, the opposition could only play seven, especially in October, 14 out of the last 15 Octobers.

I take solace in baseball because like daily life there is far more failure than success. Hell, the best hitters of all-time, the guys in the Hall of Fame, failed 70% of the time. With that in mind, Rivera's success provided solace against all the failure: Batters failed against him 79% of the time (.210 BAA). Watching Mo pitch was like watching a beautiful aberration. His skill, his talent and his performance never diminished. Clocks stopped. Entropy receded.

In the summer of 2009 when the Yankees hosted the All-Star Game in the new Yankee Stadium, another ad ran in the subways. It ran horizontally and was broken into seven or eight square blocks each block depicting a different iconic part of the city. The line? One I'd never heard before, not even between fans, but which rang truer than any I'd ever heard describe Rivera: "The closer in a city of closers." Poetry, just like the way he pitched.

All the broken bats on a pitch everyone knew was coming. Go ahead. Hit it. Mo fooled no one and everyone. He even sent bat makers back to the drawing board. And to those few that did hit Mo's cutter? Congratulations. We tip our cap. You beat our best. You lucky fuck.

Of course, the "No, we had Rivera" reaction is just that. Complete knee jerk. Do I think he'll pitch again? Yes, I do. Will it be in a real game? Hey, it's Mo, so you never know. If nothing else he'll pitch on Old Timers' Day; that great Yankee tradition of local baseball immortality; that annual Thank You from fans to former players and former players to fans each for remembering the other. Some day. He may even jog in from playing centerfield like he always wanted to.

Till then, the poster's right: We have the Yankees.