For Yankees, 27th Title Is Something Entirely Different

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You could see it in their faces, you could read it on their lips, you could hear it in their roars.

This may have been a nostalgic taste of history for many donning Yankees caps and jackets across New York, a remembrance of what was thought to be routine only a decade ago. But for the men donning the pinstripes, this was fresh. This was extraordinary.

This was the first mark of the new generation.

Robinson Cano scooped up Shane Victorino’s soft dribbler late Wednesday night, turned and fired it to Mark Teixeira at first, and then sprinted. He sprinted to the center of the diamond where the rest of his teammates convened for their celebration. He sprinted to the stage where a few of his teammates have already been. He was part of the new crowd painting old memories.

As the Yankees sealed their 27th World Series title with a Game Six victory over the Philadelphia Phillies, all you had to do was look around. Look around and see the jubilance that accompanies that first-ever glass of championship bubbly. Look around and see the relief that comes from years of expectations unlatched and ditched deep into the blustery November night.

Most evidently, look around and realize that this isn’t 1998 anymore.

There was a sense of similarity, if not comfort, about having four of the Yankees' most prominent postseason figures at the heart of a new title. Derek Jeter has been around for all five of them during his career, roaming the middle of the diamond and ending the season in his patented two-arms-to-the-sky leap that will forever be remembered in the Bronx long after his plaque makes its way to Cooperstown.

Mariano Rivera spits out cutters like other players spit seeds. One after another after another. An endless display of routine efficiency. Rivera got the final five outs of this title only to show people that nothing has changed since he leapt into the arms of Jorge Posada on that autumn night in Shea Stadium nine seasons ago.

As long as Rivera has been breaking bats and accumulating saves, Posada has been guiding him. A little older, knees a little more brittle, Posada still looks like the backdrop of perfection as he squats and waits for Rivera to fire another bullet.

The man behind the mask doesn’t get nearly the attention that the golden boys in the center of the diamond do, but Posada is one of the originals that now has a ring for his thumb.

And, of course, there’s Pettitte, the man who owns the most postseason wins in history. The guy who sits atop the most Yankees' pitching records that matter—the ones in October (and November). Not Roger Clemens, not David Cone, not David Wells. Sorry, Whitey. Ford isn’t the most decorated southpaw in franchise history.

It’s Pettitte, the one who bolted from New York after their run of titles because he wanted to pitch closer to his Texas home. After witnessing that the comforts of Houston couldn’t trump the thrills of Manhattan, Pettitte came back. On fumes, Pettitte pitched the Yankees to another ring and notched one more postseason victory onto his postseason résumé.

But that’s it. That’s all that’s left from the days of Scott Brosius and Tino Martinez. Those teams won with two men at the corners of the diamond that embraced Yankee tradition and only asked to be part of it. This team won with Alex Rodriguez and Mark Teixeira, glittery free-agent acquisitions that are talented enough to take that tradition, flip over a new page, and begin rewriting it.

The “dynasty” teams won with a hyper-intense Paul O’Neill in right field, a fireplug of emotion and competitiveness that rose to the occasion because he didn’t fear the spotlight. This team won with Nick Swisher in right, a personality looser than a XXXL t-shirt.

As Swisher caught the second out of the ninth inning, he turned to his boys in the stands beyond the fence in right and held up his index finger. One more out to go. One more out until the trophy is back in New York, until Swisher tastes the sweet fruits of victory that he has been grinding for ever since he made his way into the big leagues as a tough kid in Oakland.

In 30 years, Swisher’s mother may be the only person who remembers his name as part of the ’09 Yankees title, but his place in the clubhouse is clear. What effect Swisher had on transforming this team from tight and businesslike to relaxed and endearing we may never know, but you can bet that Swisher played a huge part in bringing guys like Rodriguez out of their shells.

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