It’s an amazing story of baseball, beer, and friendship.
In 2016 , our story went viral by being told by Mike Rowe on his “The Way I Heard It” podcast. The episode was called “You Don’t Know Mike”.
But it goes even deeper than that. In my book, Shake Yourself Free, I write about how crucial my childhood best friend, Mike, was to my survival after the death of Dana in 1990. Heading down to Los Angeles after work on Saturdays to see Mike and the Dodgers was such a crucial lifeline to me.
Baseball, beer, music, and conversation were the diversions that gave me a little bit of hope in those hopelessly dark days.
As much as I wish I did, I’m not blessed to having any answers to the deeper meaning of life and death. But I do feel like a greater force sent me to New York on 9/10/2001. I was doing for Mike what he had before done for me.
Here is our story.
Back in 2001, I worked in the grocery business for Wild Oats Markets, overseeing stores throughout the country.
In early September of that year, I was sent to the east coast. Starting in Florida for two days, I then flew to Boston for a day before driving to visit a couple of stores in Connecticut.
On September 10, 2001, my co-worker Simon and I finished our project several hours early in Westport, CT. It was noon, and we realized that we suddenly had a free afternoon and evening. We weren’t scheduled to fly back home until more than twenty-four hours later, on September 11th, from La Guardia Airport in New York City. My mom texted me and said, “you should go to Yankee Stadium; Roger Clemens is pitching tonight.”
We checked out of our hotel and headed down to New York City right away.
We bought great tickets near home plate, then it started raining like crazy. The game was delayed. After an hour or so, we headed into the stadium and got situated into our prime seats near the field, between home plate and first base.
We just got into our seats, and right in front of us was my lifelong best friend Mike and his wife Elena walking by. I was in disbelief, such a wild coincidence! Mike and I had been to dozens of LA Dodgers games together as we grew up in Bakersfield, California. Now, here we were, running into each other at Yankee Stadium.
The rain started up again, and the game was canceled. Mike and Elena didn’t have a vehicle at the game, and we didn’t have a hotel booked for the night. So they jumped into our rental car, and we headed to their apartment in Hoboken, New Jersey.
We could see Manhattan and the World Trade Center perfectly from Hoboken. Energized by the sight, we came up with the idea of going to visit Mike’s office in the morning to see the amazing view on our way to the airport.
Throughout the night, I called my wife, my parents, and a few people that I worked with. I told each of them how unbelievable it was that we ran into Mike and Elena and that we were going to spend the night at their apartment. I also shared my idea of going into work with Mike on our way to the airport in the morning.
Mike, Simon, and I went to a great little Irish Pub in Mike’s neighborhood. The Harp’s and Guinness’s started flowing. We listened to music from a great jukebox and had a lively, beer-fueled conversation as Mike and Simon hit it off really well. Mike kept saying he needed to get to bed, but we kept insisting, “One more beer.”
We left the bar at closing time and headed to Mike’s apartment.
Once there, our drunken voices were loud as we tried to talk over blaring music we were playing from the Pixies and The Smiths. A few times, Elena got up and told us to be quiet. After 3 AM, we finally went to bed with the obvious agreement that we would not be getting up early to go to work with Mike. We said our goodbyes as Mike said he’d manage to be up early.
When I woke up not too many hours later, I heard the shower going. Then I heard someone leave the apartment. A bit later, I finally salvaged enough energy to get up. I told Simon to get off the couch and jump in the shower. I turned the TV on. I immediately saw that a tower had been hit. I opened the curtain and could see the smoke as I looked at Lower Manhattan out the window.
Panicked, I assumed I had heard Mike leave earlier. But I rushed towards Mike and Elena’s bedroom and hollered for him. No response at first, so I kept hollering “Mike, are you in there?” Finally, Mike replied with an attitude that he was still in bed because he was hungover.
It was Elena, that I had heard in the shower earlier. Her daily destination was the train station in the basement of the World Trade Center. She worked adjacent to the World Trade Center at One Liberty Plaza and had been alerted to the first tower being hit just prior to departing the train station in Hoboken. She turned around and headed back to the apartment. I will never forget how extreme the emotion was as she rushed in and thanked us for keeping Mike up so late.
Mike worked for the small investment banking firm Sandler O’Neill. His office was on the 104th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center. Mike wasn’t at his desk that morning because, for the only time ever, a hangover kept him from going to work on time.
There were eighty-two of Mike’s co-workers in the office that morning. Despite the reassurance over the loudspeakers to stay put, sixteen of Mike’s co-workers took the elevator down to vacate the building after the first plane hit. The remaining sixty-six stayed and continued working.
They did not survive.
The reality of the day started to take over as the shock made way to Mike, coming to the overwhelming realization, sadness, and confirmation that so many friends and colleagues did not make it.
With the airports closed, Simon and I stayed with Mike & Elena for three more days. On the 12th, Simon and I took the train into Manhattan to show our support for the team at our company-owned store at 89th & Broadway. We visited the store and then walked the relatively empty streets of the city.
I was blown away by how kind, unified, and helpful everyone was in the aftermath of this tragedy. People were solely focused on helping people. It was the best I have ever seen in humanity. The image and feeling of this unity, sincerity, and goodness was life-changing for me, staying with me ever since.
Mike and I talk every year on 9/11.
Never forget 9/11/01.
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Earlier this year, I published my first book, Shake Yourself Free. My 9/11 story is told there in even greater detail, including the valuable lessons to learn from this story, as well as action items to use within your own life.
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