George Lombard Jr.'s magical Yankees debut felt like night and day in every way

Number 96. George Lombard Jr. came up to the big leagues on Tuesday evening wearing Number 96 on his back. That was, of course, the year when a young shortstop who wasn't supposed to be there delivered key moment after key moment under pressure as a veteran core coalesced around him and the Yankees came back from the brink to win the World Series, their first in 18 years.

A home run in his first game. In his second at-bat. The second sweeper he saw from Hunter Dobbins, who'd rather retire than pitch for the Yankees, and gets closer to that dream every time he faces George Lombard Jr. There was another Yankee — don't say it — who homered in his first game in the Bronx — don't say it — on a day when New York needed a PR win and a fresh start and a baby face. I won't say it. They were honoring the '96 team that day, too.

Tested in the second inning with a hotshot grounder and a wicked hop, Lombard Jr. saw the ball bounce just right into his glove. By the time the viewing audience could even think of the disappearing name of the previous shortstop, the baseball was being whipped from second on to first for a double play printed in big block letters. It was an instinct rather than an effort.

George Lombard Jr.'s magical debut is why we give so much blood, sweat and tears to Yankees baseball

It's been a long time since the Yankees, known for decades for their magic, known more recently for ruining potential turning points and effervescent glee, saw a storybook nine innings go from beginning to end without a stomach-turning hiccup or a groan-inducing gut check.

From Ryan Weathers working out of a jam in the sixth to Brent Headrick working out of a much tighter jam in the seventh to David Bednar working out of the tightest jam yet in the eighth, there were so many potential wrong turns. There was Paul Goldschmidt ripping the first Caleb Ferguson pitch magnetically back to his glove for a deflating double play. There was Lombard Jr. himself slipping, nearly sending Brent Headrick's telegraphed toss into center field (instinct did not take over there). There was the camera seemingly following Luis Garcia's well-struck smash into the short porch, only for the ball to fall well short of its vision, turning dreams of a 4-0 lead back into a 2-0 reality.

But none of it much mattered. This was an old-school Yankees night. No matter the outcome of the season or the career, this was Lombard's father George flying to Seattle with the Tigers and then back to New York on a dime, because some things are bigger than baseball, and some things in baseball are bigger than others. This was Lombard's brother also homering in his professional debut in the Marlins' system. This was Lombard on the field, aw-shucks and tousled hair in the postgame interview, revealing cheekily that, yeah, he knew his brother had done something special, too. He was watching.

No matter what this really was or what it becomes, it was night and day at the shortstop position for the New York Yankees, with the No. 96 keenly in the spotlight once more and not feeling as distant as it had the night before. The drought sits patiently at 16 this time, hoping never to reach another year.

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