Source: New York Post
There were roughly 19,812 screaming as one — “O-G! O-G! O-G!” — family, friends and strangers who made no distinction, processing the unimaginable, releasing avalanches, tidal waves and mountains of emotions, inspired by 53 years of close calls and bad calls, of decades as a punchline and a punching bag, of a love that was rarely reciprocated and a hope that was never rewarded. They stayed in their seats long after the final buzzer screamed victory, unwilling to leave the dream. They continued chanting through the concourses, down the escalators and outside nearby bars — “O-G! O-G! O-G!” — sporting jerseys that span the eras, smoking blue and orange vapes in a semicircle of ecstasy, making out as if V-J Day was just declared.
