I know exactly where I was on October 16, 2003. The date that marked the last time the Yankees eliminated the Red Sox from the playoffs, until last night. I was in my grandparents’ living room at an acreage
outside a small town in Saskatchewan. I watched that game with my grandfather, a notorious Yankee hater. My aunt and her two young daughters slumbered below.
I watched Grady Little leave Pedro Martinez in. I hoped. I watched the Yankees rally. Jorge Posada celebrating at second base is engraved on the inside of my eyelids. I exulted. I watched Aaron Boone go deep in extra innings to left field to walk it off against the late, great Tim Wakefield, whose knuckler had previously flummoxed all foes. I celebrated — as quietly as possible, as my grandfather threatened to kill me if I woke up the girls.
Little did I know at the time it would be a generation before the Yankees again knocked the Red Sox out of the playoffs. Little could I have predicted the next time would be thanks to a flamethrowing rookie who gave off Yankee legend vibes on the mound … in the Bronx … in a win-or-go-home game … against the Yankees’ eternal rival.
Could I ever have predicted said rookie right-hander would throw one of the great playoff performances of all time on Bucky Dent Day? If anyone ever tells you that baseball is not a romantic game … well, I’m not saying slap them in the mouth. But, seriously.
On Thursday night, in his 15th career MLB start, Cam Schlittler delivered one of the all-time playoff performances. Full stop. When it was done, he hurled eight shutout innings with 12 strikeouts… with zero walks. He’s the first ever to mix eight frames with 12 K’s … and zero walks … and zero runs — not the first-ever in Yankee history. The first in Major League history.
I can’t say enough about Schlittler’s start. Boston didn’t advance a runner to scoring position until the fifth inning. Schlittler then stranded him, blowing away Jarren Duran with a 100-mph fastball to end the frame. That’s it. That was Boston’s chance with a RISP.
Schlittler toed the slab in the Boogie down Bronx. In a must-win game. And no one who watched him last night is likely to ever forget it. I suspect there will be a plethora of No. 31 jerseys in the stands next summer. See you in the next round, Cam.
On the other side of the ball, there were of course heroes as well. Lefty-killer Amed Rosario, driving in what proved to be the game-winning run. Anthony Volpe, who’s endured the slings and arrows of an angry fanbase all season, driving in another. Austin Wells, who put a ball in play that ended with two runs crossing the plate, extending the Yankee lead.
Again, it’s been a generation since the Yankees knocked Boston out of the postseason. I’m not going to talk about The Year That Shall Not Be Named. And I don’t really want to think about getting boat-raced by Boston in 2018 in the ALDS, or a hobbled Gerrit Cole falling short at Fenway in 2021.
For those of us who are old enough, last night was catharthis. It wasn’t a World Series. Hell, it wasn’t even an American League pennant. But last night exorcised demons. The Yankees hadn’t won a playoff series against an opponent outside the AL Central in a hot minute. And they hadn’t beaten the BoSox in the playoffs since Aaron Boone took Wakefield deep into the Bronx night to clinch the pennant 22 years ago, when Schlittler was a little toddler in Walpole, Massachusetts.
Feel free to dream on the future beyond this season. Gerrit. Max. Carlos. Cam. For now, however, dream on the here and now. Fried was everything the Yankees could have hoped for in Game 1. ’Los did his part in Game 2. Cam was incandescent in Game 3. The Yankees yet live.
The Bronx Bombers head north now to kick off the ALDS. The Toronto Blue Jays loom. But that’s a problem for Saturday and beyond. For now, thanks to Cam Schlittler, the Yankees have exorcised a demon. The Yankees defeated the Red Sox. Nature is healing.
