It's hard to find something to believe in -- what with the world going mad and fundamental goods like airplanes and letters twisted into agents of destruction -- but not in section 608 at Yankee Stadium. That's the Good Vibe Section, where anything is possible, and even the most dire circumstances present no cause for concern.

Of course, our concerns are somewhat less pressing than those that cloud the rest of the world. Our concerns are really no concern at all. But for the next few hours, we're all in it together -- this crowd, this city, this country, this world -- so we might as well put aside our differences and pull for a common cause. In section 608, that cause is baseball.

"This is exactly what we want," remarked a gravel-throated denizen of section 610 -- the Good Vibe by Association Section adjacent to 608 in the Upper Tier -- as Paul O'Neill came to bat with one out in the ninth. So we were down two runs, so we were down two games to one -- the guy in the Newsroom said before the game that two was our lucky number. So we believed, and O'Neill fouled one off, so we believed a little more and he fisted a blooping single to left. Exactly what we wanted.

Bernie Williams struck out, but he took a good cut at it, which is all the Good Vibe section ever asks for, and when Tino Martinez came to bat with one on and two out, down by two, the fellow in 610 said, "This is exactly what we want."

But these are dark times. It's not easy to believe, and even the Good Vibe section started to doubt. The Yankees were down to their last out, three strikes from a three-games-to-one deficit. We were believing in an improbable victory, something we've seen many times, something that some people in the Mediocre Vibe Sections seem to take for granted. And runs of improbable victories do have a way of running out. But with one pitch and one swing, improbability got the drop on us, and doubt turned to wonder at how we ever doubted.

By the time No. 2 came to bat, one inning later, we didn't need to remind ourselves about that lucky number. Even with no balls and two strikes and two outs, we knew the count would even up, and the big board in center would at some point read 2-2-2-2 (at bat, balls, strikes, outs) and the big clock would click into Tomorrow, from All Hallows Eve to All Saints Day, and our No. 2 would dial 8. Two pitches later, he did just that.

Who could believe it?

E-mail Brendan O'Connor at brendan.o'connor@espnmag.com.