Two nights at Yankee Stadium, a city in mourning, and a friend I’ll never forget.

In October 2001, just weeks after the attacks on the World Trade Center, I felt an undeniable pull to New York City. Coincidentally, my favorite team, the Yankees, was in a heated race and in contention for the postseason. Major League Baseball postponed play until September 19th, and consequently, the postseason was also delayed.

I’ve always wanted to go to the World Series, and this was the year. It wasn’t just about baseball. It was about being present in a wounded city that was still breathing, still gathering, still finding strength in shared rituals.

The Yankees clinched the American League pennant on October 22nd and would face the Arizona Diamondbacks beginning with Games 1 and 2 in Phoenix. The timing felt like fate.

I booked my plane ticket, grabbed seats for Games 3 and 4, and set out not just to watch baseball, but to stand with New Yorkers as they stitched their lives back together. One pitch, one cheer, one anthem at a time.

Whenever I visited New York, I always caught up with my Hastings College frat brother, Tom Crisp, who had lived for many years at Broadway and West 72nd Street. He had been incommunicado because there was no phone service.

I checked airplane ticket prices. They were almost free. I bought game tickets on eBay. This was well before counterfeiting and scams became vogue. As you might imagine, I got a good deal.

The ticket seller FedEx-ed the ducats to the Hotel Pennsylvania, where I would be staying across from Penn Station. I flew from Denver to Boston and then took Amtrak to New York.

I walked across the street to the hotel, which used to be a well-kept secret in New York City. It’s since been razed and replaced by a tall office building. Now I have to find a new place to stay in Midtown.

By October, we managed to connect on Halloween. We met up for coffee before Game 3 at the Antique Cafe after I spent the day wandering around Lower Manhattan and visited Ground Zero. Tom unexpectedly died when he fell a few blocks from his home in 2024. He was active on social media. His comments on my posts often pop up. I’ll miss his wit and wisdom.

The Yankees dropped the first two games in Phoenix before the series moved to New York.

I get a beer at Stan’s Sports Bar outside Yankee Stadium. The place was elbow-elbow. The reveling was still as raucous as usual. Security was tight.

Game 3 was dramatic. President Bush threw out the first pitch.

A flag from the World Trade Center flew over the stadium. Lee Greenwood sang “I’m Proud to be an American”.

Clemens pitched well, I think a three-hitter, and the Yankees won 2 – 1 on a hit by Scott Brosius.

Game 4 was quite the nail-biter when Tino Martinez smacked a home run scoring Paul O’Neil to tie the game 2-2 in the bottom of the ninth off reliever BH Kim.

Derek Jeter stepped to the plate in the bottom of the 10th and slammed a walk-off homer to win the game. He became known as Mr. November for his blast in the wee hours of November 1st. I sat with a couple of New York guys, whom I befriended, and we exploded. After Jeter’s game-winner, one of the guys pulled out a stone he had salvaged from Ground Zero and kissed it. I wonder if he still carries that artifact around.

I didn’t stay for Game 5, which the Yankees also won, taking a 3-2 lead back to Arizona. The Diamondbacks would go on to sweep the final two contests and win the World Series. Regardless, every fan rooted for New York.

Looking back, my two nights at Yankee Stadium weren’t just about wins and losses. They were about resilience, communion, and the healing power of being together in a moment when the world felt broken.

I’ll never forget the crack of Jeter’s bat, the roar of the crowd, or the feeling that for a brief instant, New York had its heartbeat back. I’ll never forget my friend Tom, who welcomed me into that moment and whose absence now makes those memories all the more sacred. Baseball gave us something bigger than games that week. It gave us a way to remember and a way to keep moving forward.

Copy and Paste this Post on Your Social Media

✈️⚾️ In October 2001, just weeks after 9/11, I felt pulled to New York City. I witnessed two unforgettable games at Yankee Stadium: President Bush’s first pitch, Jeter’s “Mr. November” home run, and a city finding its heartbeat again. What I remember most is sharing that moment with my friend Tom—gone now, but forever part of that story. ❤️ #2001WorldSeries #Yankees #MrNovember #NeverForget #BaseballHeals #NYC #SportsHistory #Friendship #9_11 https://bouldercomedia.com/2025/10/08/terrorism-and-baseball/

Do you have thoughts to share or questions to ask? Check in with Alan-Bot.