Oh, Doctor! A 98-yard triple-reverse ties the score at 63-63! We have seen nothing but razzle-dazzle here today, three visits from Morganna the Kissing Bandit and the surprising return of Jim Brown!
Yeah, it was something like that.
To be fair, I didn't find myself asking myself, “Could this be the best day of my life?” Not to be Homer the Heretic, but it may have been the stupidest game I ever watched. I say that with love because I love how it ended. (Was that a double? Most accounts say it was, which is almost too bad because Ground Rule Single has a nice ring to it.) And I love how it went intermittently, what with all those ties: 1-1, 2-2, 6-6, 7-7. Well, I loved that they got tied. I was getting a little tie-ered when those ties wouldn't be broken like they oughta be.
It's tempting to read a LOT into this game. It's tempting to take a step back and say that because of this particular annihilation of Atlanta, Michael Tucker is out at the plate…Jay Payton held up at second…Chipper took an ohfer…Shawn Dunston camped under that fly…Rey Ordoñez put down a bunt…Al got out of the first 1-2-3…Kenny Rogers was saved for Game One of the World Series…Armando retired Brian Jordan…Franco retired Brian Jordan…Brian Jordan retired from baseball in 1992 to concentrate on football…Braden Looper found another calling…
Yes, it's tempting, yet it's too late to undo damage done. The past is past and the present is just fine, especially after winning 8-7 in 14 innings. Result aside, it actually was quite the stupid affair.
Why? Think about it. Everything we're taught about baseball, about smart baseball, didn't matter. All that stuff about the importance of putting on the leadoff man didn't matter again and again. The Mets didn't cash in and the Braves didn't pay. That's stupid. When you dig deep into a team's lousy bullpen, you're supposed to come away with runs. We didn't, at least not enough. That was stupid. Some guy named Moylan circumcised us. Ouch! That was really stupid.
The Mets were determined not to lose but equally determined for the first thirteen innings not to win. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
You reach a point in a game like this when nothing is any longer there for the proving. It's not about character. It's not about slaying dragons or gagging ghosts or gaining ground. When it's a war of attrition and both managers have used just about everybody (in the Braves' case, everybody; by the by, who's our emergency catcher — Delgado?), then it's just a matter of waiting for something to go wrong. In this case, it was Brian McCann's fatigue (serves him right for that showy steal in the sixth) and Jorge Sosa's unplanned excursion to the mound (he's no Ron Darling). But if it hadn't ended in the 14th? If we'd lost in the 18th or won in the 26th or were headed right now for the top of the 35th, what would it mean?
Other than I'd have been up until the 18th or 26th or 35th?
They don't make marathons like they used to. For a franchise that has 23-, 24- and 25-inning all-nighters on its permanent record, it doesn't seem like 14 frames should be that much of an imposition. Gary and Keith, get hold of yourselves; ask Ralph how long an endless game lasts. Still, I guess innings are longer than they used to be and pitchers don't stick around as they once did. I've been to two 14-inning games in my life (both wins, hallelujah) and they were nerve-rattlers to be sure, yet I don't remember wanting to throw myself to the ground as I did after the Mets didn't score in the…I don't remember anymore, but there was one extra inning where I'd had it, absolutely had it with whichever favorite Met of mine didn't bring home a run and my face was literally in the living room carpet.
Then I picked myself up, dusted myself off and started all over again. Like I'd give any of this back. I have all winter to not get disgusted by LOBs.
Games like these are bereft of implications because a player can be red hot for eight innings and ice cold for six. Strengths are weaknesses and weaknesses are strengths. Wagner is Julio and Julio is Wagner. Floyd's a hero and Floyd's in a slump. The ball carries like it's Citizens Bank (in whose home clubhouse I hope more than a few players were watching to the bitter end) and the ball gets stuck in a wind tunnel than can only be Shea's. Everybody failed in the clutch and the entire team came through.
These aren't games that prove a lot once they pass four hours or twelve innings (whichever comes last), but they are better when you win them. We don't have a single excuse or alibi or rationalization this morning. We don't need one. We won. The third-place, eight-out Braves lost. They have Tim Hudson going against Victor Zambrano today, but he can't win last night's game for them. That one's in our pocket, a nice place for it to rest.
No, it wasn't a classic last night. But I have a hunch that someday, it will be.
after all the disappointment lately, i was absolutely giddy after the game last night. jose going 5 for 7, dwright with the GW RBI, but most of all cliff letting out all his pent-up frustration on that mammoth shot to tie the game. coupled with today's outcome, it's actually starting to feel like we might be figuring the braves out. two days of uncertain performances by our starters, and still we win. cautious optimism, cautious optimism………
Nah, that wasn't long.
Long is when you're a kid at a hot sunny Sunday afternoon
Banner Day doubleheader in the early 1970's, and you and your
brother have, for the first time, actually made and brought a banner,
and you obey the announcement that anyone wishing to be in the
on-field banner parade between games should go down to the
parking lot area behind the scoreboard at the seventh-inning stretch,
and there you are without your parents, without a dime in your pocket,
and no concessions or vendors there anyway, without a radio because
you left it with your folks sitting in your dad's company's field-level box
behind the Mets dugout, and you can't see the field or even the
auxiliary scoreboard, and the game goes EIGHTEEN INNINGS,
and all you know about what is going on is the periodic roar of the
crowd at a hit, immediately followed by another roar when a double
play erases the runner and prolongs the game again, and the
whole time, you're holding the darn banner.
That's long.
The second game, by the way, was the shortest of the year, a flat
low-scoring loss that was over in 1:40 or something.
(Greg, you'll have to help me on the year, but this really happened
to me. It was some year when the Pirates were contenders,
because that's what our banner was about, ragging on them.)
As for last night's game, two notes:
(a) There are no happier words in a baseball fan's day-to-day game
lexicon than “leadoff triple.” It's like watching the guy behind the
counter at an old-fashioned ice cream shop, piling the scoops on
a sugar cone for you: sweet and wonderful and loaded with promise.
(b) But when the Mets fail to get that run home, it's like being
handed that cone and, before you can get your tongue on it for
even one lick, the ice cream falls off and plops on the floor.
I propose a new kangaroo-court rule for the Mets: In any inning
where a man reaches third with none out and then is not plated,
all the batters who hit after him must spring for free ice cream for
every kid in a randomly chosen section of seats at the next home
game.
I love the ice cream idea. Good luck getting the Players Association to go along with it. Still, there's a Carvel/Baskin-Robbins sponsorship tie-in just waiting to happen (though you wonder how many kids would take the scoops and not care about the LOBs).
It wasn't a leadoff triple, but it was close enough: The sixth inning of the fourth game of the ill-fated 1988 National League Championship Series…
McReynolds doubled;
Carter tripled to center
[McReynolds scored];
HOLTON REPLACED TUDOR (PITCHING);
Teufel struck out;
Elster walked;
Gooden grounded into a double play (shortstop to second to first)
How could you have a man on third and nobody out and NOT SCORE HIM? There wasn't enough ice cream in the world to make that go down smooth.
As for your Banner Day question, try these on for size:
http://retrosheet.org/boxesetc/B08031PIT1975.htm
http://retrosheet.org/boxesetc/B08032PIT1975.htm
Blech, that was a bad day too. But that gruelingly awful doubleheader
was played at Three Rivers, not at Shea. It was a decade of days
like that, I guess. I'lll poke around and find the date and post it soon.
I thought it was a classic. I was exhausted. I hope to watch that game many times over in the future on Classic Sports Network or whatever they call it now.