Nothin' sweeter than Derek Jeter
Given the history of professional sports' most famous franchise, it's very hard to attain the title of "New York Yankee Legend." Simply put, Derek Jeter deserves that distinction right now, and would deserve it even if -- heaven help baseball fans everywhere -- he never played again.
Babe Ruth's No. 3.
Lou Gehrig's No. 4.
Joe DiMaggio's No. 5.
Mickey Mantle's No. 7.
Yogi Berra's No. 8.
All single-digit numbers reserved for the greatest of Yankee legends.
This is ultra-rarified air, the Valhalla of professional sports excellence. Excel for the Yankees, keep the championship flame burning, and you stand atop a summit higher than anything else in the world of athletic competition. Folks in the fair city of Montreal would reserve such comments for Les Habitants, and they should. But, in terms of claiming worldwide recognition and stature throughout the test of time, being a New York Yankee legend is the way to go.
Mount Olympus, meet Derek Jeter and his No. 2.
He's the complete, all-around athlete that Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle were.
He possesses the class and professionalism of the Great DiMaggio.
He plays with the passion and joy of Yogi.
His consistency and toughness would make the Iron Horse proud.
Bob Sheppard should be saying this, but I'll have to instead:
"YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE... LADIES AND GENTLEMEN..."
...Derek Jeter is a Yankee of Yankees, a Pinstriper for the Pantheon, a Bomber to rival the Bambino, a player for the ages.
Mere mortals don't do what Jeter did in the seventh inning of Game 3 of last week's American League Division Series against the Oakland Athletics.
Only those graced by the divine do what Jeter did in the eighth inning of Game 5 of the A.L.D.S. on Monday night, diving into the seats, tumbling over, and making a catch that was as important as it was athletically and visually stunning.
Pay-Rod and No-mah might have the power, but with the game on the line -- in the field or at the dish -- how can you ever go wrong with Jeter? If his immensely talented American League contemporaries at shortstop could come within shouting distance of playing with the full measure of Jeter's elegance, poise and smarts, they should consider themselves to be very, very lucky.
Without being overly excessive, it should be said in a very simple way: Lou Piniella, if Game 7 is tied in the ninth and a runner is in scoring position with two outs, I recommend walking Jeter if he's at the plate. The Yankees have a certified legend, and you don't challenge legends if you don't have to.
Hey, Babe, ole No. 3, whaddya say about this No. 2 guy anyway?
Lou Gehrig's No. 4.
Joe DiMaggio's No. 5.
Mickey Mantle's No. 7.
Yogi Berra's No. 8.
All single-digit numbers reserved for the greatest of Yankee legends.
This is ultra-rarified air, the Valhalla of professional sports excellence. Excel for the Yankees, keep the championship flame burning, and you stand atop a summit higher than anything else in the world of athletic competition. Folks in the fair city of Montreal would reserve such comments for Les Habitants, and they should. But, in terms of claiming worldwide recognition and stature throughout the test of time, being a New York Yankee legend is the way to go.
Mount Olympus, meet Derek Jeter and his No. 2.
He's the complete, all-around athlete that Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle were.
He possesses the class and professionalism of the Great DiMaggio.
He plays with the passion and joy of Yogi.
His consistency and toughness would make the Iron Horse proud.
Bob Sheppard should be saying this, but I'll have to instead:
"YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE... LADIES AND GENTLEMEN..."
...Derek Jeter is a Yankee of Yankees, a Pinstriper for the Pantheon, a Bomber to rival the Bambino, a player for the ages.
Mere mortals don't do what Jeter did in the seventh inning of Game 3 of last week's American League Division Series against the Oakland Athletics.
Only those graced by the divine do what Jeter did in the eighth inning of Game 5 of the A.L.D.S. on Monday night, diving into the seats, tumbling over, and making a catch that was as important as it was athletically and visually stunning.
Pay-Rod and No-mah might have the power, but with the game on the line -- in the field or at the dish -- how can you ever go wrong with Jeter? If his immensely talented American League contemporaries at shortstop could come within shouting distance of playing with the full measure of Jeter's elegance, poise and smarts, they should consider themselves to be very, very lucky.
Without being overly excessive, it should be said in a very simple way: Lou Piniella, if Game 7 is tied in the ninth and a runner is in scoring position with two outs, I recommend walking Jeter if he's at the plate. The Yankees have a certified legend, and you don't challenge legends if you don't have to.
Hey, Babe, ole No. 3, whaddya say about this No. 2 guy anyway?
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