The biggest fear on the mound in 2001 wasn’t a Diamondbacks home run. It was that something could go terribly wrong while the President through the first pitch. Snipers watched from the roof of the Yankee Stadium as part of the massive security operations. O’Neill said he as Scott Brosius worried about “all of these unbelievable things that could happen wrong.” , according to Peter Sblendorio. He recalled standing next to Scott Brosius as George W. Bush walked up to the mound. They felt a wave of relief only when the President was “basically off the field.” The terror attacks had killed 2,977 people just weeks before. The city was still burning.
The Pitch That Changed Everything
That moment happened during Game 3 of the World Series in the Bronx. The country was reeling from the loss at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. MLB had postponed games for days. When play finally returned, the mood was heavy. O’Neill said he was so relieved when the President left the field. At that moment, your mind races with every conceivable disaster that might unfold. The players knew the risk was real. They were a target, not merely competitors on a diamond.
O’Neill noted that throwing a strike was “one of the coolest things” he remembers from that night. It seemed like a small act. But it meant safety. The players needed that sign. They needed to know the world was still moving. The 2001 World Series ended the Yankees’ run of three straight championships. The loss mattered less than the survival of the moment. The city needed a win for its soul, but the game was secondary.
Life Goes On While the World Burns
Most athletes think the game stops the world. The 2001 season proved them wrong. O’Neill explained that players usually believe the whole world shuts down during the Series. While competing in a World Series, a player feels as though the entire world ceases to exist. You don’t realize that life is going on. That illusion broke in September. The players saw the smoke from the ground. They felt the weight of the city on their shoulders.
The local teams did what they could to help. Every local team visited Ground Zero to show support. They wanted to bring comfort to first responders and grieving families. The New York Post reported that Bobby Valentine and Mike Piazza applauded Mayor Rudy Giuliani before the Mets played the Braves on Sept. 21, 2001. It was a simple gesture. It meant everything. The Mets and Yankees stood as a symbol of healing, far more than just two baseball clubs.
O’Neill stated that although far more significant matters existed, the task still had to be accomplished. The game had to go on. It was a duty. The daily drive to the stadium served as a constant reminder, even weeks later, of the smoke rising from Ground Zero. The players felt protected, but they wondered if they were really safe. Recalling our time on the field, we wondered if we truly felt protected despite our sense of safety. Once you started playing a few of the games, that eerie feeling faded. The fear never fully left until the final out.
That World Series revealed global events beyond baseball, marking the crucial distinction. The country went through this, don’t get me wrong. But if you’re in New York, you lived it. The smoke cleared slowly. The teams kept playing. The city kept breathing. That is the only way forward.
