9/11 and the Changeup
9/11 and the Changeup
By Laurie Bain Wilson
This year, to mark the 20th Anniversary of 9/11, the Mets and the Yankees will play at Citi Field in Queens.
On the morning of 9/11, I was on my way to my office in Manhattan. I saw the burning towers from my train and never made it to work. I was lucky, of course. So many others that took the train into the city that morning never made it back home. I eventually did.
Baseball games were suspended league-wide in the days that followed 9/11. And when the games finally resumed, baseball in September and October felt so good. The game brought fans, even fans of rival teams, together. And it helped so many kids cope. And parents, too.
And it still does. And will when the two New York teams play this year to honor the day. There have been many horrific, heartbreaking terrorist attacks since 9/11. And whether these senseless attacks occur at home or abroad, the sadness is profound. And times are especially tense right now in our country, and many seek comfort, stability, smiles—and reasons to smile.
Baseball is comfort food for the soul. So often, the game has become a reliable coping mechanism, used to help Americans through wars, depressions and national heartaches. And personal heartaches, too.
My son was ten years old on 9/11. One night, just a couple of days after that horrific day, he was understandably anxious about my going to work in Manhattan. I sat next to his bed, and really didn’t know what to say. The truth was, I was frightened to go to work. But I couldn’t exactly tell him that. I hated to leave him to travel into the city.
I glanced across his room. There they were—Derek Jeter, Andy Pettitte, Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera, their faces on a poster hanging in his room. They were New York.
“Hey, look,” I said, pointing to the poster. “Jeter and those guys, they’re not afraid. They’re still going to Yankee Stadium to practice and to play. And Jeter lives in the City, he loves it. It’s okay.”
Jeter remarked in his Hall of Fame speech earlier this week that baseball is more than just a game. Baseball fans don’t go to the ballpark only to watch a sport being played. When they sit in the bleachers or in the grandstand or behind home plate, they’re connecting—to memories of their first ballgame with dad (or mom) or grandpa (or grandma) and to other fans cheering for their favorite team in that ballpark and at home watching on TV. And they connect the next morning while waiting in line for a cup of coffee—they celebrate after a win the night before and they commiserate after a loss.
Baseball connects history, too. My great-grandfather, Cornelius (Con) Daily, played for a decade in the Major Leagues, including for teams like the Boston Beaneaters and the Brooklyn Bridegrooms. He was a catcher. He’s been immortalized in many baseball books and encyclopedias—in fact, I learned just a few years ago that he was buried at the All Faith’s Cemetery in Middle Village, Queens, while reading one of them.
So, we visited his grave for the first time. After a bit of a search, we finally found his grave, with a big stone angel on top of the tombstone. And when we looked west, there was the new World Trade Center being built. The Twin Towers had towered over his grave all that time, albeit from a distance. We placed one of his baseball cards that I’d bought off an online baseball card site next to his grave, and we left a baseball there, too.
Con’s birthday is September 11.
This year, I plan to visit the cemetery, as well as the reflecting pools downtown to honor those lost. And my son will be attending the Mets and Yankees game that night.
Jeter also said in his speech, “I wanted to make all of you proud.” What he doesn’t know, is that he and baseball made a young boy, and many others, also somehow feel safer.
In those weeks following 9/11, these fans were also connecting to their love for America—fans in love with their heartbroken country and their country’s favorite pastime.
The game is a connection to the past, a respite from the present and, just as we can be sure that the sun will rise, we know that a fastball will also rise over the plate for a home run hit and a future filled with hope.
Here we are, 20 years later. Lots of curveballs are being thrown our way. But that’s okay, baseball will always have our backs.
Laurie Bain Wilson has had essays published in Working Mother, The Boston Globe and Salon.com. As a longtime correspondent at The Boston Globe, a contributing writer at TravelChannel.com (she was the NYC expert) and freelancer for many publications, including the New York Times, she has covered the travel and lifestyle industry for decades. She writes about baseball whenever she can, including co-authoring Three Strikes, You’re Dead, a Murder, She Wrote novel she wrote with her father, and Catcher in the Sky, a middle-grade novel. Her website is www.weekendsandcupakes.com; her portfolio is https://muckrack.com/laurieheather