WHEN I think of baseball, I think of my grandfather who introduced me to the game. I think of a time when I played sandlot baseball or playing catch next to the parked caboose along the railroads tracks.

I think of those black-and-white photographs of Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio. I think of my grandfather teaching me the game. I think of my first baseball mitt and how a right-handed one didn’t fit my left hand since I am a lefty. I think of the New York Yankees who were such a powerful lure along with Marvel Comics and Spider-Man when moving to New York. I think of Don Mattingly, the lone star on a team that was baseball’s best for over a decade but never went to the playoffs or won a title. I think of the times I said, “There’s always next year.” I think after a while, I wondered if next year was not going to be in my lifetime. I think of Aura and Mystique and I am quite sure that I cannot find them in an adult shop on 42nd Street. I think of how foolish the Atlanta Braves sounded when they said they were the team of the ’90s but they only had one title to show when New York won four, including three straight. I think of fearfully sitting in the upper tier boxes and not paying attention to a foul ball and getting boinked on the head. I think about getting embarrassed along Yawkey Way by obnoxious Red Sox fans and getting revenge a few weeks later at Yankee Stadium. I think about serving lunch for Jason Giambi and Tanyon Sturtze in an Upper East Side restaurant and asking for an autograph even at the risk of getting fired. I think about being reluctant to ask Paul O’Niell to sign a book and immediately regretting it as he stepped inside the players’ entrance. I think of those days when the Boss fired Stick and Buck and signed what the Post said was Clueless Joe. I think that Joe Torre was actually magnificent and the most successful Yankees manager since Casey Stengel. I think of losing in ’01, ’03, and ’04. I think of ’11 against Detroit. I think of how this is where Derek Jeter gets a home run and the Yankees win in five. I think that this is where Alex Rodriguez saves his poor season and slaps a bases clearing hit to the gap. I think of him getting fanned for the last out of the season. I think of that empty and sinking feeling of taking the 40-minute subway ride to midtown and the hour’s wait before that 30-minute bus ride from New York to New Jersey. I think of lying in bed at night refusing to take off my pinstripes and by the time I am ready to sleep it’s time to go to work and my eyes are bloodshot. I think that Aura and Mystique have packed their bags and so will Jorge Posada. I think of pre-Game Two where Andy Pettitte threw the opening pitch and where he and Posada shared an embrace on the hill. I think that Derek Jeter is at a point where he is like Cal Ripken Jr. (and he does look like Cal Ripken Jr. at this point). I think that the season that had all the makings of a memorable one since DJ joined the 3K hit club and Mo now owns the saves record. I think of how AJ Burnett sent the series back to the Bronx but we suddenly lost Ivan Nova. I think of this Fall and how the Fall Classic will be without my Yankees and what a long winter it’s going to be. I think of Spring next year when I hope to make that long-awaited pilgrimage to the new Stadium that the Boss built. I think of Cashman reloading and I, for one, cannot wait for things to get started. I think this time off will be a period of healing and, at the same time, that Spring seems like an eternity at this point. I think that, “Hey, we actually weren’t seeded to win this year and we overachieved.” I think that maybe so but a season that does not end with a World Series title is a failure. I think that the players need to be commended for what is nevertheless a great season. I think that 97 wins in a 162-game season are pretty good enough when you have a patched-up pitching staff. I think I should count my blessings because, after all, the Yankees did win the AL East. I think, too, that in Yankee Stadium there is no room for AL East trophies since we only have room for pennants and World Series trophies. I think that this painful ouster by Detroit magnifies the throbbing pain of a toothache. I think that maybe I should relax and go out and have fun at the Ateneo bonfire later. When I think of the New York Yankees I think of my grandfather who introduced me to the game and my favorite team. I think back to a time that has been frozen in my mind’s eye and how I stubbornly cling on to them as happy thoughts. I think of my grandfather who I miss even after all these years. I think that the love he showered me in my more rambunctious days that is something I repeat with my own kids. And I think that it’s great that my kids, too, are Yankee fans.