This was it. This was the moment — no, make The Moment, capital “T,” capital “M” — that Mark Teixeira had been searching for, seeking, waiting for. This is all part of the initiation rites, you know, the pinstriped equivalent of pricking your finger, making it bleed, taking a sacred oath.
This was the opportunity. He’d already smoked a solo home run right-handed, and a solo homer left-handed. The first had brought the Yankees within a run, the second within two runs, and so neither would qualify for capital letters. It would have to be now. Of course it would be now.
The Yankees were trailing 6-4 in the bottom of the ninth, but they had the tying runs on base, Brett Gardner on second after a scratch infield single, Derek Jeter on first after getting plunked by a 95-mph fastball from Jonathan Papelbon. There was only one out. And whatever remnants of the announced crowd of 46,526 remained, maybe 10,000, probably less, summoned all their reserve, all their energy.
They wanted The Moment every bit as much as Teixeira did.
It has been such a wicked and yet wonderful tradition for the Yankees, after all, going back to Chris Chambliss, who dodged boos and derision for the better part of his first three seasons as a Yankee before hitting a forever fastball from Mark Littell of Kansas City one October night in 1976, and from that moment on he had Yankees fans eating out of his hands.
Remember Tino Martinez? Booed mercilessly for the venial sin of not being Don Mattingly, he spent most of April 1996 waiting for his Moment, and when it arrived — across two games, last day of April, first day of May, both against the Orioles at Camden Yards — it turned a season around, eight RBIs in two wins that everyone fingered as the turning point of the first championship season in 18 years.
Remember Jason Giambi? Booed mercilessly for the felony charge of not being Tino Martinez, he spent most of April 2002 waiting for his Moment, and when it arrived — in the 14th inning of a May game against Minnesota in the Old Stadium, the Yankees trailing by three runs, the bases loaded, that crowd as sparse as this one — it turned Giambi’s whole Yankee persona around. He became an instant folk hero, growing instant Teflon that would help deflect so much of the peripheral stuff that would absorb him in later seasons.
Now, it was Teixeira’s moment. Even with those two earlier homers, his average stood as a sickly .198. Before the game, Teixeira had said, “I know I’ll come around, but I just wish I could do it here, and do it soon, so the fans will know I’m not a .180 hitter.”
His manager, Joe Girardi — himself a veteran of extended fan hazing back in ’96 — had expressed a fervent belief that Teixeira was thisclose to a breakout.
“He’s getting a lot of good swings, hitting a lot of hard foul balls, guys are making great plays on him,” Girardi said. “I don’t see him beating himself up the way I did in my first year here, or losing any confidence.”
And all he needed was for this moment to morph into The Moment. One swing. One heroic swing. Yankees fans had been giddy when Teixeira signed in December, a Steinbrenner Family Christmas present, and at the time they weren’t bothered by the fact that Teixeira seemed most pleased that the Yankees provided a star salary without star responsibilities. He talked of blending in with his other high-priced teammates. Which he’s done.
But the Yankees didn’t need him to blend now. They needed a hit.
And so did Teixeira.
For a few moments, you could almost imagine this being the spark that revved Mark Teixeira’s engine, because it all seemed fated: Red Sox in town, Yankees desperate for a win, and what a win this would be: against Papelbon, a comeback, with Alex Rodriguez ready to mount his white steed back into town in a few days. It was perfect.
And one more time, baseball proved it is not always perfect. Teixeira worked the count to 2-and-1. Papelbon seemed to be reeling. And then he wasn’t. Boom – fastball. Boom – fastball.
And poof – there went The Moment, for another day, another game. It will come, some day, some game. Some other day. Some other game.
