It was the Giants’ turn to play on Sept. 23 in the heartland, in Kansas City against the Chiefs. New York’s teams had the sympathy of the whole country now, though fans would still root against them after the opening kickoff. But there was really no escaping the multi-layered tragedies. Dick Lynch, the team’s radio color man for 34 seasons, was back at work in the broadcast booth even though his son, Richard, was missing, presumed dead. Richard was a married broker, the father of a 10-month-old daughter. He had been at his trading desk on the 84th floor of 2 World Trade Center when the second plane struck the building.

It was New York City Day in Kansas City. Lynch cried a bit during the pregame ceremony. Then there was Shaun Powell, the Newsday columnist, who covered the game from the press box. He’d lost his younger brother, Scott, who was inside the Pentagon when a jet crashed into it. John Mara, the Giants vice president, sat just a row above Powell in the press box. A day earlier, he’d been to his fourth funeral in a week, for friends and business associates.

Down on the field, Jason Whittle, a reserve center for the Giants, was back on the sideline after sitting bedside with the brother of his best friend. The brother was a construction worker around Ground Zero, and had been hit by debris. The Giants won, 13-3, as if it mattered.

October arrived, and a delayed baseball postseason ran into November. The Yankees had a tremendous run, staged two of the most remarkable comebacks in World Series history in the Bronx. Then they went back to Arizona, up 3 games to 2, and everybody figured they would close out the Diamondbacks, that this was somehow destiny. New York needed this championship. It was a done deal.

And then the impossible happened. Mariano Rivera couldn’t hold the lead in the ninth inning of Game 7. The Yankees lost. Paul O’Neill retired, right there on the spot, at his locker in Phoenix. This was the wrong ending for a dynasty, for a magical run. New York cried again a little, in a very different way than after Sept. 11th.

This was just sports. We could take the good from it, revel in the triumphs, forget any disappointment at our convenience. There were no real ramifications. It is why sports can bring us such comfort, when real life brings us such great pain. It is why they resumed the games in New York, after the planes hit.

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