There Is Crying in Baseball Upon securing the final out of the eighth inning on Sept. 26, Mariano Rivera retreated to the training room inside the clubhouse at Yankee Stadium. 26, Mariano Rivera retreated to the training room inside the clubhouse at Yankee Stadium, descending into a temporary sanctuary hidden from the 48,675 fans who had come to say goodbye to him. As he applied heat to his aching elbow, coaxing it to allow him to throw the baseball just a few more times, two decades of memories washed over him: the minor league days when he struggled to understand English; his first few years as a Yankee; the early successes and painful failures; the All-Star games; the five championships and a record 652 saves; and all the relationships with teammates, coaches, clubhouse attendants and friends he had forged along the way. "I was being bombarded with emotions and feelings," Rivera said. But after a few moments of quiet reflection, he was ready to go back to the mound to say goodbye. Even he didn't know how wrenching this farewell would be. For while Rivera was collecting himself in the clubhouse, Manager Joe Girardi had a thought. Instead of allowing Rivera to complete one final save, and instead of removing him from the game himself, Girardi decided to send Andy Pettitte and Derek Jeter, Rivera's longtime teammates, to the mound to escort him from the field one final time. After Rivera recorded the first two outs in the ninth, Jeter and Pettitte emerged from the dugout and walked together to the mound. Pettitte tapped his right arm as a manager would, summoning the ever-so-rare replacement for Rivera, who, at first, smiled sheepishly. When they arrived at the mound, Rivera handed over the ball. He wrapped his arms around Pettitte, buried his face in his friend's shoulder and wept almost uncontrollably. After 19 years, a magnificent career was over. "He broke down and gave me a bear hug, and I bear-hugged him back," Pettitte said. I mean, he was really crying. He was weeping, and I could feel him crying on me. With thousands grasping the magnitude of the moment, Rivera regained his composure, hugged Jeter and left the field. Standing in front of the Yankees" dugout, he took off his cap and waved one last time to the fans, who never stopped cheering, never stopped loving. "This is as good as it gets," Girardi said afterward through his own flowing tears, "and it's probably as special a going-out for any player I've ever seen."