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I saw him out of the corner of my eye.
The natural inclination was to follow Terrence Long’s drive into the right-field corner, Shane Spencer digging it out, then arcing a throw that air-mailed both Alfonso Soriano and Tino Martinez.
But sitting in the press box behind home plate in Oakland, Calif., on Oct. 13, 2001 — wow, two decades ago already — I wanted a quick glimpse of where Jeremy Giambi was in his journey from first base. That is when I first saw Derek Jeter, moving away from second, where he had been in anticipation of covering the bag for a Long double. Jeter was now racing toward the midpoint in the line from home to first.
Jeter said subsequently — including last week in a conference with reporters — that he was “where I was supposed to be,” that the Yankees practiced this scenario in spring training. But then and now: Really, a third cutoff man?
If there was anything that defined Jeter’s career as a Yankee, however, it was “The Flip Play” — right place, right time.
After all, the Yankees have picked as high as sixth just four times in the history of the common draft, none since they had that pick in 1992, when they selected Jeter. Three teams — Houston, Montreal and Cincinnati — had to ignore the top player on their board in 1992 so that Jeter could slip to sixth. To the team, for which he told his fourth grade teacher he would one day play. The only team for which he ever wanted to be associated.
Right place, right time.
There’s doubt by a contender in New York that it should be going with a 21-year-old rookie shortstop? Jeter homers on his first at-bat of the 1996 season and makes the defensive play of the game.
The Mets win Game 3 of the 2000 World Series in the first game at Shea Stadium? Jeter homers on the first pitch of Game 4.
The clock strikes midnight on the first major league game ever to ebb beyond October? Jeter hits a 10th-inning homer and earns the nickname Mr. November.
Jeter is the guy who hit the ball Jeffrey Maier scooped. The guy who dove into the stands against the Red Sox. The guy who threw out Timo Perez at the plate. The guy who homered for hit No. 3,000 and went 5-for-5 that day and drove in the winning run to boot. The guy who drove in the winning run on his final swing ever at Yankee Stadium.
Jeter was a great player. You don’t collect the sixth-most hits in history as anything short of great. Yet, when I think of Jeter, I don’t think of greatness. I think of consistency. I think of self-confidence. Mostly, I think of timeliness. He was the most timely player I ever saw. He literally has plays named for him — “The Flip,” “Mr. November” — because he was: right place, right time, right man.
Of course, he did not come through on every occasion. But with Jeter, it was clear from the outset that no moment was bigger than the player. He would not blink in crises or in huge spots. It is why his slash line for a season’s worth of playoff games — 158 of them — against the best competition at the most pressurized time (.308/.374/.465) is a near facsimile to what he accumulated over 20 regular seasons and 2,747 games (.310/.377/.440). He was a metronome able to embrace New York, October, fame — rather than be consumed by it all.
Jeter notably hated the analytics tidal wave as a player, in part because it so denigrated his defense. Which is why Jeter’s career so fits him. Yes, he has great statistics. But what you remember is not the numbers, but the events. The timeliness.
I believe analytics provide great macro numbers, in particular, that better help explain the game or better define a player’s strengths and weaknesses. But within the course of a game, what can get lost is the need to win that individual game. Jeter excelled at this. It was uncomplicated for him — do what is necessary to win this game. I think the simplicity helped him not be unnerved at any particular time — just play this individual game, whatever is necessary, to win.
Follow The Post’s coverage of Derek Jeter’s Hall of Fame induction
Which brings me back to why — most of all — I think of The Flip when I think of Jeter. Because context is needed.
The 2001 Yankees in many ways were running on fumes. For a lot of that season, it felt they were winning on muscle memory and addiction to winning (they had won four of the previous five World Series and three in a row). There was a sense of running on fumes of greatness by late that year — Scott Brosius and Paul O’Neill, for example, retired after that season. The bullpen behind Mariano Rivera lacked depth and excellence.
The Yankees then lost the first two games of a best-of-five in The Bronx. It would have been understandable for even a proud group (and it was a proud group) to mentally surrender and appreciate the end of a historic run. But Jeter, in particular, was not built that way.
I remember in spring of 2005 asking Jeter if he thought when, in Game 7 of the 2004 ALCS, the Yankees cut an 8-1 deficit to 8-3 in the seventh inning against Pedro Martinez in relief, they were going to rally and still win the series. His eyes glowed and he said, “Of course.” And I knew it was not the words offered because you are supposed to say that, but rather reflected the unflinching belief Jeter had that he would win in the end.
So here was the seventh inning of AL Division Series Game 3 in 2001, Mike Mussina pitching brilliantly, but clinging to a 1-0 lead when Long smacked the ball in the corner and Giambi took off from first. Perhaps, it sticks with me because I saw Jeter and had that piece-of-a-second thought: “Where the hell is he going?” Turns out, he was going somewhere to win.
He fielded a one-hop throw with his momentum flowing toward the visiting dugout as he crossed the first base line. The only improvisation he will take credit for is the backhand flip — perfect, like an option quarterback — to his pal Jorge Posada, who swiped the non-sliding Giambi’s leg at the plate. You will get a good argument even now, safe or out? Umpire Kerwin Danley ruled out. The inning was over. The game was too, because Rivera was about to come in for two innings. The series too, as the Yankees never lost to Oakland again.
They got all the way to World Series Game 7 — on fumes or muscle memory and lingering excellence. But if Giambi had scored, the Division Series probably would have ended with Game 3. The Yankees would have gone home, dynasty over at that point.
When Jeter is inducted into the Hall of Fame on Wednesday, I will certainly again think of that play, seeing Jeter initially out of the corner of my eye, rising to the moment in the biggest spot. I will think that he is on that podium, getting a plaque and immortality for many reasons. But for this reason more than any other:
Right place, right time, right man.
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