Thinking About Jeter and Gehrig

I've been hesitant to write something about Derek Jeter's "pursuing" Lou Gehrig's all time Yankees hit record.  The hype machine has saturated the media so much with this story that I simply haven't wanted to contribute to it. As I write this, my feelings haven't changed. So, you ask, what am I doing writing an article with this title? I'm not really interested in Derek Jeter breaking the record.  It's nice.  I'm happy for him.  But really, what does it mean? Lou Gehrig, before Wednesday night's game, sat alone at 53rd on the career hits list for all of major league baseball.  53rd. Granted, with the amount of people who have played baseball over the years, that is still quite an accomplishment. But 53rd?  It seems a little arbitrary that the Yankees haven't had someone in their history that had more career hits than Gehrig's 2721. I've spent the last few weeks wondering what it actually means.  What does it mean that Derek Jeter has reached this number of hits established 73 years ago by one of the all time great players? Does it mean Derek is as great as Gehrig?  Probably not. Does it mean that Jeter is more important now in Yankee history than Gehrig?  Doubtful. Jeter reaching this mark and the adulation that has accompanied it really has nothing to do with Lou Gehrig.  And as Derek Jeter himself would probably tell you, he neither wants nor controls the hype and circumstance that has surrounded him over the last few days. No, this record is about us, the fans.  This record is about confirming what we believed baseball to be before free agency and bloated salaries, before Sportscenter and the advent of the highlight. This is about watching a 22 year old shortstop fulfill all of the promise, all of the expectations, all of the hope that you placed in him fourteen years ago.  This is about brushing away all of the doubt that has clouded the hallowed records in this grand old game since the late nineties and celebrating a player who has worn integrity like a uniform. We're happy for Derek Jeter because he made us look good.  We defended him to the Nomar and ARod fans.  His numbers were always a hair below, but the success on the field was obvious. Now, Derek Jeter is the last one standing, wearing the same uniform he did in 1995 when he first set foot in the majors.  He's a throwback, a reminder of what was great about the game before Congress was required to clean it up. He would never say it, but Jeter is proud of this record.  He wants this record because he's always wanted to be a Yankee.  You can't love something and not want to be a part of it.  That's why we want him to have this record, too.  We know he will appreciate it as much as we do. A few weeks from now, all the hub bub about this week will be forgotten.  What's so important to us right now will soon trail off into our memories, rarely to be thought of again.  The record, after all, is just a number.  Nothing more.  We won't be any different because of it. Thankfully, neither will Derek.