It’s over.

Sad as it is, the 2001 World Series is finally finished, seemingly weeks after it began. The riots are likely over, the Bronx Bombers have been dethroned and a bunch of snakes are the possessors of the title of “World Champions.”

But the question is, was it the greatest World Series of our lifetime?

Well, first we must look at the other series that could potentially take that title. Because of the beauty of drama, let’s eliminate any series that didn’t go the full slate. That leaves us with only six World Championships since 1981 (the year I was born) outside of this year’s.

Of those six, 1982, 1985 and 1987 were all series that went seven deep, but really lacked the luster that most of the games from the 2001 version of the Fall Classic possessed. In those three matchups, a total of only two games were decided by one run, compared to four in just this year’s campaign.

Now here’s one that can actually match up with this year’s contest. In 1986 (for Red Sox fans who can’t bear to read this, please proceed to the next paragraph) the Mets took four out of the last five games to end the Sox’ hopes of ending their streak. Still, the series only had two one-run classics and it climaxed in Game Six, not at the very end. The only reason that ’86 could compete with ’01 is because of the tension of Sox fans throughout the East and the world, praying for some sort of redemption.

In 1997, a young Marlin squad went out and topped the Indians, winning the final game in extras. The only problem is, nobody really cared. Neither the Indians nor the Marlins held anywhere near the popularity that either the Yankees or the Diamondbacks grasped this year. Without the emotional factor, the Fall Classic just isn’t the same.

So with that we’re down to one. This is the only series that can actually rival this summer’s Fall Classic. Ten years ago, the Twinkies topped Atlanta in seven games, in a series that nearly paralleled its counterpart of ’01, with five games being decided by one run and three going into extra innings, including the final two games in Minnesota. Also, like this season, all seven games in the series were won by the home team.

As great as 1991 was, this year’s World Series was far better on so many levels. Sure, the first and sixth games were blowouts that had their outcomes in doubt for no more than five innings. But aside from those two contests, the Series was filled with superstars, in both greatness and in failure. It was filled with so many swings of momentum and of emotion that fans could hardly take a breath for any of those five games.

First off, only twice in World Series history had a team been down two runs in the ninth inning and come back to win the ball game. Not only did the Yankees do it twice in a row, they tied both games with two-run jacks with two outs in the bottom of the ninth and then went on to win in extras. That is truly the work of backyard wiffle ball dreams that manifest themselves in the minds of youths across America.

Second, we got to witness the greatness of Curt Schilling, who was easily the best player in this season’s playoffs. Still, he was imperfect against the Yanks, a beautiful thing in its own right. Schilling was phenomenal in games one and four, and cruised through six innings of the final outing. The fact that he started to crack in the seventh and gave up a homer to Alfonzo Soriano to lead off the eighth, showed the humanity of someone who was performing acts that were so heroic just two innings before.

Speaking of imperfection, the sheer fact that Mariano Rivera came in to pitch the final two innings and actually lost is phenomenal. Rivera, who still possesses the lowest career postseason ERA in the history of the major leagues, not only allowed two runs in the ninth, but threw away a sure-out at second base with no one retired. His dominance in the game should not be overshadowed by the sheer results though – aside from Tony Womack’s double, no player truly got good wood on any of Rivera’s pitches.

Additionally, it was only the second time in over 150 games that the Yanks lost when leading after eight innings of play – the first time since the year that baseball became integrated.

Game Seven alone qualifies this series as one of the all-time classics. A pitcher’s duel between two of the most dominant pitchers of their generation is rarely paralleled, let alone in a seventh game. It was one of the tensest games ever viewed, without a doubt. A potential series-winning home run by a 23-year-old rookie on a nearly perfect pitch from a dominant veteran? Unbelievable. A botched play by a pitcher in the upper echelon of his position in terms of fielding? Magnificent. A come from behind victory in the bottom of the ninth? Stellar.

The beauty of this series was founded though, in the emotion that surrounded it. On one hand, you had the defending champs – the schoolyard bullies who always seem to win, but still have an egregious number of people rooting against them. On the other hand, there was the young franchise that was yet so old, and some suggested the mail it received from the AARP crippled mail carriers.

And then there were the players. Grizzled veterans like Schilling, Randy Johnson, Matt Williams and Mark Grace, all looking for their first, and likely last, titles. Stoic Yankee heroes like Paul O’Neill, Tino Martinez and Scott Brosius all looking for just one more sip of the nectar of victory. Journeymen Miguel Batista and Brian Anderson, showing they aren’t just backups to Arizona’s 1-2 punch, but instead pitching as well as their counterparts at the top of the rotation.

It was the stoic history of the Yankees against a club in existence for just four years. It was a back-and-forth series that found its excellence in pitching, but timely hitting was the difference in the series. It was a series in which the excellence of its stars was overshadowed by isolated moments of imperfection.

Without blemishes, beautiful things simply seem ordinary. Could anyone truly appreciate a perfectly blue sky if there weren’t days filled with gray? Would baseball be the same if its heroes were successful nine times out of ten or if certain players never made mistakes? Absolutely not. Imperfection is exactly what makes some things so beautiful.

It is that imperfection that made the 2001 World Series perfect.