As Usual, Yankees at Top of Heap, Red Sox at Bottom

The ball disappeared into a bouncing mass of left-field blue, the tears filled Joe Torre’s eyes, the New York Yankees started a mad dancing dash to home plate, when their house was filled with a song.

“Start spreading the news ...”

Tim Wakefield began his trudge into the remorse-splattered Boston Red Sox dugout, Trot Nixon walked into a right-field shower of beer and trash, Pedro Martinez went into a staring trance from the bench, as the song continued.

“I want to wake up in a city that doesn’t sleep, and find I’m king of the hill, top of the heap ...”

By the time Aaron Boone had crossed home plate with one of the most dramatic home runs in baseball history -- Bill Mazeroski meets Kirk Gibson -- the Bronx was singing while Beantown was despairing.

Spread the news, indeed.

The Yankees are the Yankees again, with all their drama and greatness.

The Red Sox are the Red Sox again, with all their pain and regret.

Twenty-five years ago, it was Bucky Dent.

This time, it was Bucky Pound, Bucky Smash, Bucky Pummel.

This time, it was a pinch-runner and defensive replacement who finished them, Boone connecting on the first pitch in the 11th inning from Wakefield to give the Yankees a 6-5 victory in Game 7 of the American League championship series.

“When I joined the Yankees, this is the kind of thing I wanted to be part of,” Boone said. “The perfect ending.”

For both teams.

In the 83 years since the Red Sox sold Babe Ruth to the Yankees, they have yet to beat the Yankees in a truly meaningful game.

But they’ve never been filleted like this.

This time, the Red Sox had one of their best pitchers in history on the mound in the eighth inning with a three-run lead.

Pedro Martinez was smoking. Roger Clemens had been knocked out. The Red Sox were five outs from advancing to a winnable World Series against the Florida Marlins, a World Series they have not won since 1918.

Then it happened, as only it can happen to Boston.

This wasn’t a ball between a first baseman’s legs.

This was a hatchet between a franchise’s eyes.

With one out, Derek Jeter shortened his swing and chopped a double to right field. Bernie Williams fought off a two-strike fastball to single to center, scoring Jeter, closing the gap to 5-3.

A man ran around the right-field bleachers waving a Babe Ruth uniform, begging fans to touch it for luck.

Thousands resumed their earlier chanting of “Bleep you, Pedro.”

At this point, the Red Sox should have said, “See you, Pedro.”

He was clearly finished. His manager, Grady Little, visited him on the mound to talk about it. Martinez refused to leave. Little relented.

This, even after Little had heard about Dusty Baker and his problems with Kerry Wood in the Chicago Cubs’ loss on Wednesday.

This, even though the Red Sox bullpen had been the postseason’s best.

“Pedro wanted to stay in there,” Little said. “He wanted to get the job done just as he has many times for us all season long.”

Turns out, the Yankees wanted him on the mound, too.

Hideki Matsui came to the plate, fell behind 0-and-2 on a fastball and curveball, then calmly lasered another fastball down the right-field line for another double, moving Williams to third.

What was previously so difficult suddenly seemed too easy. But Little still wouldn’t budge.

“He had enough left in his tank to finish off Posada,” Little said.

Seemingly everyone in the stadium knew he didn’t.

Sure enough, Jorge Posada waited through four mediocre pitches before finding one he could knock into center field for a two-run double.

The score was tied but, these being the Yankees and Red Sox, the game was over.

It required a few more innings, but it was over.

There is a reason that, since 1920, the Yankees have won 39 pennants while the Red Sox have won four.

There is a reason that, in that same time period, the Yankees have won 26 world championships and the Red Sox have won none.

This night was that reason, a night finished off with a wasted reliever and an uncertain third baseman.

The reliever was Mariano Rivera, pitching more than two innings for the first time in seven years, biting his knuckles and kicking the dirt and allowing only two hits and no runs.

“I was thinking, we have to get this game,” said Rivera. “I have to do my best, and get a chance to win, give him a chance to hit that home run.”

Him, of course, was Boone, a late-summer acquisition who, when the night started, was benched for Enrique Wilson because Wilson fared better against Martinez.

Enrique Wilson?

Four hours later, the bench player went airborne.

“I felt like I was floating,” said Boone of his home-run trot.

The same could be said for the Wakefield’s pitch, which just sat there, as if on a tee, waiting for Boone to knock it out, waiting for Torre to sum it up.

“This is the best,” he said, apologizing to all his former championship players. “This has to be the sweetest taste of all for me.”

Later, in the crowded Red Sox clubhouse, Wakefield was crying, while in the crowded Yankee clubhouse, Don Zimmer was crying.

Just another night of high drama in baseball’s high church, maybe the most chilling night ever, the Yankees forever being the Yankees, the Red Sox forever being the Red Sox.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached bill.plaschke@latimes.com.