Mariano Rivera was every fans' dream.
A player who could come in, under the most pressing circumstances, and bail out the team. A person who could, and did, reliably save us from our own failings.
A man who could undo the mistakes and dangers the rest of us had created. Human errors and misplays which put at risk all we hoped to achieve. Mariano would flawlessly and magically put things right again for us.
Time and time again. We expected his perfection and, most incredibly, we almost always got it.
On the biggest stage of all our boyhood dreams. He would get the last out of the World Series.
We wake up this morning to the harsh reality that our dream has now ended.
We shall never again see such a player. Most of us, that is.
Forever forward, we will be biting our fingernails whenever there is a critical "save us" situation, and someone wearing pinstripes emerges from the bullpen.
It will be like throwing dice and hoping to hit a "7".
Our days of breathing easy are over.
How do we carry on?
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