November Magic

Remember it, November 4, 2009.  The Yankees win their twenty-seventh World Series title, one for the Boss. You don't see these things, this special kind of magic, too often.

Magical Andy Pettitte, an afterthought last offseason, a champion on the mound. Magical Hideki Matsui, supposed to be on his way out the door on bad knees, now World Series MVP. Magical Damaso Marte, a bridge out of nowhere. And the one who's always standing there at the finish line, going on a decade and a half now, the closer who closes the door that others can't, Magical Mariano Rivera.

And not to forget Magical Jeter and Posada, Magical Alex, Magical Damon, Magical Swisher, Magical Hairston . . .

Magic cannot be dissected, overanalyzed, mathematized and statistified. Nor can it be bought. And baseball magic is something that brews on the field, and infuses the dirt and grass, and cooks up and back around in the high stands in the summer heat, in the places where the fans roar from April to September, and where many must say goodbye before the fall. But make no mistake, they leave behind their own special magic dust, distilled from their hopes and dreams over the long season, sprinkled in those seats for a later time, a part of them that will not be denied or scattered in the November wind.

Magic cannot be talked into existence. It isn't formulated in radio studios, newspapers, and blogs. Three days of rest, five days, eight -- can you still hear the fading buzz, or is it already too distant, dissipated by the spell of excitement cast by pinstriped sorcerers with balls and bats?  

But try to remember it.  Just for a second. There is a lesson to be learned that may settle you through the ups and downs of seasons to come.

Baseball magic is unpredictable and unquantifiable. It is a wild, elusive, powerful thing, with a curious chemistry that defies easy formulation. It is created in the here and now, in newborn moments that refuse to bow to the past. It is heart, desire and hard work, and it is talent, will and skill, catalyzed into transcendent victory.

Watch it when it happens and be thrilled. And savor it.

World Series Championship No. 27 for the 2009 New York Yankees.  Confetti will soon be falling on them in the Canyon of Heroes.

After nine years without paper snow falling on pinstripes, this team has earned a magical November blizzard.