This is just one day our country will never forget. May those that lost their lives on September 11, 2001 rest in peace.
By Vincent Rapisardi
I don’t really know how to start something like this. It’s one of those things that words can’t describe, yet something we all understand.
Even 14 years later, our country still feels the effects of September 11, 2001.
Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends were all of sudden gone in a series of attacks that nobody ever expected.
In a way nobody ever expected.
When it happened I was in kindergarten and although I didn’t understand the impact at the moment, I can still remember sitting on my parents bed watching both towers engulfed in flames on their black Sony tube TV.
I can’t tell you I remember too much from that age, but that’s something that I’ll never forget for sure.
Although the attacks that morning portrayed evil intentions to the furthest extent, it also brought out the best in those that rose as hero’s.
Those that risked their own life for the safety of other’s, as yet another case where words can’t do the action any justice.
Weeks following the events, baseball returned to New York.
A moment that brings chills to anybody with a pulse.
The New York Yankees accomplished something pretty special as well that fall. Going on a run that took them all the way to the world series. Quickly going from America’s favorite team to hate, to all of a sudden a team you couldn’t root against.
Making it feel as though everyone was on the same team for once. Rivalries put aside.
And although they fell to the Arizona Diamondbacks in seven games, it was truly an inspiration performance.
It gave people hope.
Allowing them to escape from the nightmare that had taken over their lives.
The nightmare that destroyed families.
People always say that baseball is “just a game.” That win or lose, it’s overall meaning in life is very small.
But those that say that, don’t realize the bond it creates between friends, between a parent and a child, between grandparents and grandkids, and so on.
It’s a common interest you can share with someone no matter where you live, no matter how much your salary is, or what kind of car you drive.
I can tell you that from personal experience.
My dad is a truck driver. Do you think in anyway I can relate to his job as a kid going to college? Of course not.
What bonds us?
We can have a two-minute conversation about work, and babble on for a half hour about the Mets postseason chances (even if my dad does repeat himself over and over again).
That’s the beauty of baseball.
We will never forget those that lost their lives on that horrific day, and their legacy will always be preserved in the minds and hearts of anyone who knew them.
Before I let you go, I’ll leave you with this.
Right down the middle:
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