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 [1], 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 [2]). 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 [3] wins [4], 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.