John Sterling was the last Yankee

The memory that rushed into my mind yesterday had nothing to do with a home run call or an on-air flub.

It was Oct. 11, 2001. I was a few days away from turning 12. I was in bed, listening to Game 2 of the American League Divisional Series on my radio, WABC’s blowtorch of a signal coming in crystal clear on my blue Discman.

The Yankees were being mowed down by Tim Hudson, well on their way to a 2-0 deficit in the best-of-five series. Michael Kay began laying out the upcoming schedule. He ended by saying there would be a Game 5 back in the Bronx if necessary.

“I hope so,” John Sterling said.

It seems silly to say now, but that was the first time it ever dawned on me that Sterling, like me, really wanted the Yankees to win. And the way he said something so simple was just so powerful. You could feel it all — concern, exhaustion, hope, optimism, the weight of everything the city and region had gone through in the last month.

We all know what happened next. Mike Mussina took the mound in Oakland with the entire world knowing he had to win the game 1-0, and he did it thanks to the greatest moment of Derek Jeter’s career. The Yankees then found a way in Games 4 and 5, rolled over the Mariners and then came about as humanly close as you can to winning the World Series without actually winning it.

Everyone will remember Sterling’s dramatic calls from Games 4 and 5. But I will always remember how he professionally captured Luis Gonzalez’s bloop in Game 7 and Jay Bell crossing home as the Diamondbacks drew the curtain on a dynasty.

One of the beautiful things about baseball — but also one of its flaws — is that the game is never as special as it was when you were 12. I concede this as I write, but it does not change my belief.

Sterling — who passed away Monday at 87 — was the last Yankee. They will have great players again — obviously they have one right now in Aaron Judge — and they will even win championships again. But Sterling was the last thing that made the Yankees feel like the Yankees. He was the remaining bridge between the aura and mystique and this new corporate era where winning is not the only thing and an insurance company has its logo on the pinstripes. And hey, things change. Time marches forward. It is what it is. But that does not mean we cannot acknowledge and honor.

Listening to Sterling call a game was a joy. Yes, he would get things wrong sometimes. So what. He wasn’t doing air traffic control at LaGuardia. The Phil Mushnicks of the world were always a loud, hopeless minority. The man belongs in Monument Park and in Cooperstown. It is a shame he did not get there in life, but he deserves it in the afterlife.

Well, John, I thank you.