62

AN EDITED VERSION OF THIS POST NOW APPEARS ONLINE IN LETTERS TO THE EDITOR IN THE NEW YORK TIMES (AND IS SCHEDULED TO APPEAR IN THE PRINT EDITION TOMORROW)

Baseball is a game of numbers. Statistics to be analyzed, dissected and discussed. But there is one figure above all that separates the men from the boys.

Aaron Judge looks different from everyone else on the field. Taller, broader, bigger. A man among boys.

And so he is. 

I have had the privilege of never growing up. I am 70 years old and retain the same passion for this sport as I did when I listened to Mel Allen and Red Barber paint pictures on my radio. Mickey Mantle still residing deep in my heart. Now I make room there for another as well.

The relentlessness of this chase and the unwavering effort Aaron Judge demonstrated day in and day out for more than six months was like watching each brushstroke of a piece of  wondrous art unfold. His love and respect for this sport bursting forth with as much force as his every swing.

62 is more than a number. But, as a shorthand, it will suffice. The best. Thank you Aaron Judge.

Thank you.