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P R E F A C E Of all the places to be on Sunday, October 8, 1995, I, a lifelong Yankee fan, was in Boston. It was Columbus Day weekend, and I spent it visiting my aunt in New England. For the first time since I began following baseball, the Yankees were in the playoffs, going up against the Seattle Mariners in the Division Series. The first four games had been beyond anything I expected. Game 2 lasted until 1:15 in the morning, and even though I had school the next day, I stayed up to watch every minute. Jim Leyritz’s game-winning home run seemed like the greatest moment I had ever witnessed in sports. But the Yankees blew a two-games-to-none lead and now a decisive Game 5 was being played this Sunday night. After a day of visiting tourist attractions in Beantown, I settled into my aunt’s living room and forced her, my uncle, and father (all Mets fans) to watch the Yankees. Game 5 was excruciating. Up by two runs in the eighth inning, the Yankees lost the lead, and the game went into extra innings. When the Yankees went ahead in the eleventh inning, I was already figuring out who would pitch Game 1 of the ALCS for New York. But in the bottom of the inning, the Mariners, as they had all season, battled back. A bunt base hit and a seeing-eye single brought Edgar Martinez to the plate with the series-winning run on first base. It was a nightmare. Martinez had a history of killing the Yankees. Admittedly I am a pessimist, but certainly I wasn’t alone in thinking this could only end one way for the Yankees: badly. On an 0–1 splitter, Martinez lined a double down the left-field line, easily tying the game. While some may have hoped the Yankees could throw out Ken Griffey Jr. at the plate and keep the series alive, I ix was not one of them. I knew he would score. He had to. Griffey killed the Yankees even more than Martinez did, so why wouldn’t he do this to us again? As Griffey slid into home plate to win the game, I slowly got up, walked into the room where I was staying, and lay down on the guest bed. Before I knew it, I was crying my eyes out. Uncontrollably sobbing like I never had before. In an era before the Yankees seemingly made the playoffs every year, it felt as though their only chance to ever win another World Series had just vanished in mere seconds. That night was the last time I cried over sports. The 1995 Division Series between the Yankees and Mariners was the best baseball I have ever witnessed. The drama on the field was matched by the drama off. George Steinbrenner spent the week lashing out at anyone whom he felt was shortchanging the Yankees, from players to umpires to team owners. Meanwhile, the Mariners were fighting for their very existence, as their owners had threatened to move the team if a new stadium was not built. For years I had reminisced fondly on that series, even though the Yankees had lost. The success of both teams in the years since then, however, seemingly erased the memory of that series in the minds of many baseball fans. In the fall of 2006, I finally decided (with a little prodding from my wife) that it was time to remind people just how exciting the 1995 series was and that its impact was still being felt over a decade later. As I began to interview those who had actually played a role in the series, I learned I was not alone in my way of thinking. Many members of the ’95 Mariners could not stop talking about their fond memories of that season. Additionally, many of the ’95 Yankees had equally fond memories, particularly of their teammates, many of whom they never played with again after Edgar Martinez doubled down the left-field line. I hope they and baseball fans across the country enjoy reading this book as much as I did writing it, for the story of this series is truly one of heartbreak, comebacks, rebirth, and redemption. x • PREFACE ...

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