Every September 11 invokes a multitude of emotions for me, as I’m sure it does for you. I continually battle within myself the need to pay tribute to not only those who died in the terrible attacks on the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, and Flight 93, but to those people who were directly affected by the attacks. I want to honor their experience while not cheapening it. I did not know anyone who died in the attack and I was not in New York or D.C. during the attack and I did not watch the Towers collapse in person.

But I was just 30 or miles away from Manhattan; I could see the smoke from my campus at Rutgers University; I know several people who were directly, and deeply, affected by the attacks on the Twin Towers; I have personally been to the site and understand what my friends are referring to when they say that the smell that permeates your soul and never leaves you.

So I am in the middle in terms of my experience. I have a more first hand experience with the attacks than say someone from Tennessee or Utah, but my experience pales in comparison with some of my friends. So every year I toil with myself on the best way to honor that experience and memory while not acting like I lost more than I did, that I experienced more than I did, that I was affected more than I was.

I think the best way to accomplish that is to just be honest about my experience and what helped me through it.

I was asleep when the attacks first happened, but my roommate and I were awoken a little after 9 when my mom called me and told me what happened. We immediately turned on the news and that is where we stayed for much of the day. I was stunned that our country was actually attacked, I was worried about one of my best friends who lived and went to school in New York, and I was confused as to what would happen next. I was in just my first full week as a freshman in college and still fairly naive about the true nature of life and the ways of the world. And I have to admit I was a little scared that something like this could have happened so close to where I was.

The way I dealt with the attacks was the same way I think a lot of people did: with friends and family, through discussing what had happened and how we felt, through forums and meetings on campus, by visiting the site and paying my respects, and through sports.

There was a great debate at the time as to whether the baseball season should be canceled in light of the attacks. Many argued that it was a time for serious matters and a focused nation. Sports, in comparison to our national problems and security, were very unimportant and to a large extent that was true. In the grand scheme of things, who wins the World Series or the Superbowl or the Stanley Cup matters very little. Our nation was attacked, people died, the country was at war. What’s a game when compared to issues with such gravity as those?

But many people argued that in times like these we need a diversion from the doom and gloom that was surrounding us, and what is a better diversion than sport? Than our national pasttime? Baseball filled that void that many people across the nation felt. It allowed us to focus, if for just two or three hours at a time, on something happy and exciting. It filled us with a sense of patriotism and pride. This is what America is about. We are baseball. We are hard work; we are determination; we are skill; we do not give up; we persevere; we play through the pain.

Never has our country so rallied around New York (the city full of people who would just as soon tell you to screw off because you got in their way as ask you to move) and the Yankees (the pompous Kings of baseball) as during that World Series. I grew up with a respect and an affinity for the Yankees because my dad had grown up as a fan of the Yankees, going to games in the Bronx with his father and his brother, sitting out in the bleachers.

But I never considered myself a Yankees’ fan. And I still don’t. As far as American League teams go, I root for the Yankees. Most of my AL friends are fans of the Yankees and I have that embedded respect and admiration for the team that my father and grandfather bonded over. But I am at my core a National League guy and a Phillies fan. I despise the DH and the homerun style of play that is such a part of the AL. But for those few games, despite my affinity for Curt Schilling, I did not root for the Diamondbacks, I rooted for the Yankees.

I look back fondly on those few games when my roommate and I drove up to Staten Island to watch the World Series at Applebees with our friend who had gone through so much over those few weeks. Despite all that had happened, we were able to enjoy a few hours of respite.

That is why I think sports are so important. And it doesn’t have to be sports. It could be theater, or dance, or music, or whatever. A happy diversion from the troubles of every day life. But for a lot of us it is sport. Sport combines the fierce determination to win, the strong love of competition, the fraternal bond felt by teammates, and fun that help us divert some of the passion and anger away from the troubles in our life. Better we yell at Jimmy Rollins for calling out the fans or popping up on the first pitch than our wives or bosses or friends. It allows us to just have fun.

So that is my September 11 story. It’s not a particularly meaningful or touching story, but it is my own. I hope that like me, you were able to rely on sports, or some other hobby or activity, to get you through that terrible period. And I hope that by telling the story of my own experience and expressing my thoughts and feelings at the time, it will help you continue to cope with your thoughts and your feelings and better deal with your own experience. Sports plays such a pivotal role in our society. At times like September 11, it becomes more than a diversion. It becomes a lifesaver for many people.  I believe that if sports can endure a national tragedy, then we can all endure it. And it may be a little late to be saying all this, seven years later, but it needs to be said, and there’s no time like the present, because you never know what tomorrow brings.