Jeter 3,000

There was a light mist on the upper Delaware River on Friday, the type of mist that's light right until you get up to it and it disappears, and it's misty up ahead. A light drizzle scared away all the insects, and a large thunderstorm was expected in the late afternoon, only it never came. I was an hour away from Binghamton, which was spared the storm's wrath—a Godsend for someone like me, who is terrified of lightning. (This is the type of place that will make you believe in God.) The storm did not spare Yankee Stadium, and the land was unforgiving enough to lack cellphone service, so that when we got in the car Saturday for the return trip we huddled around the radio to hear whether or not Derek Jeter had gotten his 3,000th hit the night before only to learn there had been no game. The soon-to-be-ex bachelor for whom we had come up here, who is a huge Yankees fan, was elated because he thought we might get back in time for him to make the game.

We didn't, but we were cruising down the West Side Highway when Jeter took a 3-2 pitch over the auxiliary scoreboard, as John Sterling repeated no fewer than 15 times, for hit number 3,000, and three-quarters of the car devolved into chaos. (I was the exception.) I like Jeter. I respect Jeter. But I do not like Sterling and Suzyn Waldman, who declined to describe the events on the field after the home run for a full five to 10 minutes, in favor of describing the home run and the "majestic" ballpark in which they work over, and over, and over. Derek Jeter will hit more home runs in his majestic career, but he will never have a celebration like he had for No. 3,000. Sterling and Waldman were, as ever, celebrating themselves.