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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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MANHATTAN PLANE CRASH
Mel Waldman
We thought it was another terrorist attack in Manhattan.
But it was a Yankee pitcher, with his flight instructor,
flying low along the Hudson and East Rivers, swallowing
the sweeping urban view and mystique, a short celebration
of life in this magical city, after an unexpected defeat in Detroit.
After circling the Statue of Liberty, his Cirrus SR20 flew north
by the East River. Soon it went off the radar, vanishing over
treacherous waters.
Suddenly, it changed its course, heading toward Manhattan and
a high-rise on the East Side.
In the end, in the microcosm of a life flashing before his eyes,
faster than his last strike the Saturday before, in the Division
game against the Detroit Tigers, he remembered, perhaps, his
son’s smile and his wife’s gentle kiss before crashing into the
Tower.
It wasn’t terrorism. Yet the burning building evoked horrific
memories. Once again, there was dusty death and fire and a
tempest of debris falling from the sky.
And one wonders if a Yankee pitcher/rookie pilot could fly
below the radar, couldn’t terrorists do the same?