As the cheers and chants for a sobbing Mariano Rivera shook Yankee Stadium, his long-time teammate Derek Jeter walked to the pitcher's mound and delivered the message no one really wanted to hear.
"It's time to go," the Yankees captain appeared to tell his old pal.
Baseball's most acclaimed relief pitcher made an emotional exit in his final appearance in the Yankees' home pinstripes when Jeter and Andy Pettitte came from the dugout to remove him with two outs in the ninth inning of a 4-0 loss to Tampa Bay.
During four minutes of a thunderous ovation from the sell-out crowd of 48,675, an overcome Rivera bawled as he buried his head on the shoulder of Pettitte, who is also retiring when the season ends on Sunday. Pettitte gave Rivera a 30-second bear hug, and Jeter followed with a 15-second embrace.
"I was bombarded with emotions and feeling that I couldn't describe," he said after the game, flanked by his wife and three sons. "Everything hit at that time. I knew that was the last time. Period. I never felt like that before."
It was one of those special Yankees scenes that will join Lou Gehrig's farewell speech, Babe Ruth's last ballpark appearance, Mickey Mantle Day, the first game after Thurman Munson's death and the finale at the old stadium as moments to cherish and remember.
There was hardly a dry eye in the ballpark. The Yankees and Rays stood in tribute while fans blinked back tears, honouring the closer who turns 44 in November.
Rivera had retired four batters on 13 pitches - the overall 465th perfect outing of his big league career. He had gone to the trainer's room in the Yankees clubhouse after the top of the eighth instead of remaining in the dugout.
"Everything started hitting from there. All the flashbacks from the minor leagues to the big leagues, all the way to this moment," he said.
When he walked off the mound for the final time with two outs in the top of the ninth, he wiped his eyes with both arms and blew a kiss to the first row behind the Yankees dugout. He hugged a tearful Girardi in the dugout, grabbed a towel to dab his own teardrops, came out again and doffed his cap to the crowd.
After the last out, Rivera remained on the bench for a moment as Frank Sinatra's recording of New York, New York played. He paused before taking a last walk to the mound, a man alone, kneeling and gathering a bit of his workplace as a keepsake.
"I wanted to get some dirt, just stay there for the last time, knowing that I ain't going to be there no more, especially pitching," he said. "Maybe throw a first pitch one year, one day. But competing - won't be there no more."