For Students I Had That Day

Like December 7, 1941. Like November 22, 1963. Like April 4, 1968. Like 9/11.

It seems as if days that affect us the most involve the passing of someone. It might be horrific events like Pearl Harbor or the assassinations of President Kennedy and Dr. King. It might be images of planes flying into buildings seared into our memory by television broadcasts around the globe. It could be a sudden death of a loved one or even a death that is anticipated after a long illness.

Such days don't have to involve the passing of someone we knew or even ever met. They don't even have to mean someone passing from their corporeal form.

I know I will try to find a way to watch the last game Derek Jeter plays at Yankee Stadium this year. I know I will watch the last show David Letterman does just as I watched the last Tonight Show hosted by Johnny Carson.

I will watch the last show hosted by Craig Ferguson if only to hear him say, "It's a great day for America."

These are days that change us, change our lives, change the way we view things. The days we never forget, the days we hoped would never come, the days that cause us to smile and shed tears.

Icons and institutions that I've grown up with and learned to appreciate and love over time do that to me.

I used to tell my students a story about traveling home to Chicago to see my parents the Christmas after the first Mayor Daley died. We were driving into the city on the Eden's Expressway. As soon as we hit the city limits, I felt a sense of sorrow. My wife, who was not born and raised there as I was, turned to me and said, "Something's wrong. Something's missing."

I simply said, "Daley's gone." It was as if the entire city was in mourning.

Such days of passing affect us as individuals and collectively as a society. That's why we can all remember what we were doing, who we were with, where we were even decades later.

Thinking back to this day 13 years ago, I remember being at my classroom computer and getting a report from the AP about the World Trade Center. I think I was one of the first in the building to know about it, but the news spread quickly, and a few other teachers were able to tune their televisions to the news. Students wanted to know what was happening.

Eventually the principal made an announcement.

I know on the way home, for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to go buy a gun. I didn't. Instead, I stopped at the local driving range. Sometimes hitting something, anything, really hard and really often is a cathartic release. When I got home, I hugged my wife and children, as probably did many Americans that day.

My strongest memory of that day, the one that comes back to me on this anniversary, is that of the students I had that year. Amid the uncertainty of that day, the lack of information, the terrible nature of events, the images we all saw, they worked.

They read what they were supposed to read. They wrote what they were supposed to write. Like the firefighters and police who ran into the buildings, my students worked. They did their jobs.

They did their jobs without question.

I think, in part, that is what Kitty Donohoe has in mind when she penned this:

I was really proud of them that day. I was proud to be their teacher.

Sometimes good things happen

Sometimes cool things happen in baseball, particularly when great players are making last performances.

On May 25, 1935, Babe Ruth hit three homeruns and drove in six. The third homer was his last, and he quit the game five days later.

The Boston Red Sox urged Ted Williams to retire after the 1959 season in which he hit only .254 with 10 homers. It was the only year Williams hit under .300. He was too proud to go out after what he considered a less than stellar year. In his final season, he hit .316 with 29 homers. On September 28, 1960, he stepped to the plate at Fenway Park in the eighth inning against Jack Fisher of the Baltimore Orioles. On a 1-1 pitch, Williams swung and the ball flew into the bullpen in the deepest part of the field. It was his last at bat as a player.

Much has been said about Derek Jeter in this his final season as a New York Yankee. After 20 years, over 3400 hits, five World Series rings, and 14 All Star Game appearances, he certainly is deserving of all the accolades he receives. It’s why Nike had Spike Lee do the tip the hat commercial.

It’s also why Adam Wainwright, when Jeter stepped to the plate in the first inning at last night’s All Star Game, placed his glove on the mound and applauded The Captain with everyone else in the stadium. As much as I hate the Cardinals at least they have classy players like him.

After a 91 mph ball in the dirt, Wainwright threw a 90 mph fastball that Jeter laced into right for a double.

Then when Wainwright admitted that he kinda grooved the pitch to Jeter, all hell broke loose. My reaction was, so what? It’s one of those many unwritten rules of baseball, and one part of diamond ethics is that you show respect for the best players. To everybody who is giving Wainwright grief, I wanted to say, "Oh, like no one ever saw that coming?"

2012 was the last All Star Game for Chipper Jones and when he came to the plate, he got a standing ovation much like Jeter did, from the fans and the players. He hit a soft ground ball to second base, a play that Ian Kinsler, a four time All Star, could make in his sleep. Kinsler took a step to his right and then to his left and let the ball by him into right for a base hit.

In 2001, Cal Ripken Jr. stepped to the plate in his last All Star Game. He, like Jeter and Jones, got a well deserved ovation. It was the third inning, Chan Ho Park on the mound.

Wainwright's pitch tailed a little and was around Jeter's knees. Park's pitch was 92 mph, belt high and straight as an arrow. It's part of the game. I really don't care if Wainwright grooved it to Jeter, or if Han piped it to Ripken, or if Kinsler nonchalanted the ball at second base. Ted Williams was right when he said that hitting a round object moving 90 mph with another round object is the hardest thing to do in sports. Regardless of whether Wainwright or Han grooved those pitches, Jeter and Ripken still had to hit something moving really really fast. I doubt anybody complaining about Wainwright could do that.

I might have been able to catch that grounder, though.