One of the best parts about being a sports fan is that moment before the moment when you know something remarkable is about to happen. This feeling comes over you. It’s not something that you can easily explain, but you sense that someone is about to hit a home run, or you feel a game-winning touchdown drive is going to happen, or sense that this rush will lead to a spectacular goal, or you know even before the ball leaves the players’ hands that it will swish through.
I’m not talking here about the logical side of the brain at work — that’s different. Sure, a pitcher gets what appears to be the third out of the inning, a fielder drops the ball, you see the pitcher stomping around, you watch him mope his way to a 3-1 count against Papi or Albert or Thomenator, and yeah, it’s not hard to predict what very well might come next. You are a Cleveland Browns or Kansas City Chiefs fan or Denver Broncos fan or, well, really anyone, and John Elway gets the ball with the game on the line in the final minutes, yeah, that’s not not a hard prediction either.
No, here I’m talking about sensing something that isn’t logical, isn’t easily accessible, something that comes from a deeper place, that reservoir of all your feelings as a sports fan. This is a weird one because it comes from my own limited sports experience, but I remember once playing in a Little League game, and we were down something ridiculous, 7-0 or something, and the pitcher was blowing us away, and it was the last inning and … I knew we would come back. It wasn’t a feeling of cockiness — honestly, I don’t think I said anything beyond the usual “We can get this guy!” chatter that you shout on LIttle League benches. And we weren’t much good either. But I knew we were going to win as if I was watching the game on Tivo, there was something in the air, something that I’ll never really understand, and then we DID win, we scored something like 11, and I actually contributed two hits to the victory (no small feat for me; I couldn’t hit much), and years later I think that might have been the only time that I’ve ever been in this zone that athletes talk about. I never felt that way again as a player. I’ve felt it a few times, though, as a sports fan. Like I say, it’s a weird thing.
Monday night, at Fenway Park, it seemed to me from the first pitch that something amazing was going to happen. I chalked that up at first to the aura of Fenway — I’m as susceptible to it as anyone. Before the game, I sat in the dugout with Brian Bannister, and we talked about how soon the new/old Yankee Stadium would be gone, and this would be the last place left in the American League, the last old ballpark, the last real connection to Gehrig and Ruth and the Big Train and DiMaggio and Williams and Feller and Doby, the last connection to black and white moments, to Mel Parnell, to Bucky Dent, to Fisk waving it fair, to Perez’ seeing the slow curveball, to Gods don’t answer letters.
“Right there,” Banny said, and he pointed to a spot just to the right of the light pole where the Green Monster ends and to the left of where the American Flag waves in left center-field. That’s the precise spot where a baseball hit by MannyBeingManny crashed — later that night Bill James would say it was the hardest hit ball he had ever seen. The pitcher, of course, was Brian Bannister. He stared at the spot with this big smile on his face and he said, “That was awesome,” and I understood exactly what he meant. It seems to me that when you’re successful — when you go four-for-four, throw a three-hit shutout, bang two homers in a game, strike out the side to get a save — you can celebrate and feel very much alive. But when you give up a massive, legendary home run to a future Hall of Famer at Fenway Park, you know you’re in the big leagues.
Anyway, there’s always this feeling of expectation at Fenway Park — the park is just too different from all the others, too much has happened here, too many memories crowd the mind. When you walk through Fenway Park, you will naturally run into people who have been coming to Red Sox Games since the 1950s, the 1940s, these kinds of fans are at Yankee Stadium too, at Wrigley Field, but it really is different in Boston. The Prudential building towers over right field. The American League East standings, with Boston in first place again, stared out ominously from the Green Monster. Jon Lester threw his first pitch at 7:06 p.m., a fastball to David DeJesus, a called strike. I just felt like something special would happen.
Of course, I did not think that something special would be a no-hitter. No, you don’t go to Fenway Park to see one of those. No, I thought maybe I would see MannyBeingManny’s 499th homer, or maybe I would see Jose Guillen crack three doubles off the Monster (he was the Morning Line favorite to be my column), or maybe I would see Papi hit one of those ninth inning home runs, or maybe … one of the five best words in sports — maybe.
The no-hitter thing did not come to my mind until the fourth inning, that’s when Guillen hit a sinking line drive to center field, and Jacoby Ellsbury made an incredible catch — a catch so good that I was absolutely certain he had trapped it until I saw the replay. Up to that point, Lester had not been especially dazzling. Esteban German had crushed a line drive right at first baseman Kevin Youkilis. David DeJesus hit a fly ball into the wind that, on another night, might have reached the Green Monster. Lester had thrown 58 pitches through four innings, which meant he probably wasn’t going to make it to the eighth. Still, there was something about that Ellsbury catch.
“It’s a shame he wasted that catch in a game like this,” my friend and writing partner Bob Dutton said. At the time, the Royals were down 5-0, thanks in large part to three consecutive walks by Luke Hochevar followed by a dropped infield pop-up by Mark Grudzielanek. He was right — Ellsbury’s catch was one that you would love to see in the late innings of a 3-3 game — but something about it struck me wrong.
“Yeah,” I said. “That catch will be shown on SportsCenter over and over again after Lester throws the no-hitter.”
I was joking. Only I wasn’t joking. There was something about that catch, something about the night, something about being a sports fan, something about a lineup that had Esteban German and Tony Pena, something illogical happening in my mind … I could already see the headlines, and I could already hear the announcers, and I could already feel something. That catch was the moment. Lester really was going to throw a no-hitter.
Of course, crazy thoughts like that happen all the time at a baseball game. Anytime a pitcher throws three innings of no-hit ball, you might start thinking about the no-no. Anytime a guy hits a triple in his first at-bat, you might start thinking about him getting the cycle. I want to say this is different, that I had a deeper conviction, but I don’t know. That’s probably selective memory. In any case, Lester came out dealing in the fifth. He struck out Billy Butler. he struck out Miguel Olivo. He compelled Mark Teahen to hit a ground ball to second base. He was looking stronger.
Now, I began looking up things. The Royals had been no-hit once in their history. That was 1973, Nolan Ryan’s first no-hitter — so there was something sort of honorable about that. Heck SOMEBODY had to be Ryan’s first no-hitter; if you were going to have just one no-hitter in team history, that’s the one you would want. Beyond that, the Royals had been one-hit 27 times. Minnesota’s Scott Baker threw eight perfect innings against them last year — I remember that game precisely because I was in St. Louis, and word came down about Baker, and I rushed over to the little TV in the corner to see what was happening. While watching I heard a horrible groan in the stadium, and I looked down, and all of these people were surrounding Juan Encarnacion — that’s when he got hit with the foul ball. Mike Sweeney broke up the no hitter with a single up the middle.
Todd Richie took a no-hitter into the ninth inning inning against the Royals in 2001 — Luis Alicea broke it up. Because of the heroes and goats in that one, I barely remember it. In 1989, Cleveland’s John Farrell had a no-hitter against the Royals going into the ninth inning — Kevin Seitzer broke it up. I kept that in mind just in case someone got a hit off Lester. Farrell is, of course, the Red Sox pitching coach.
But, the no-hitter feeling was overpowering. German, Pena and DeJesus went quietly in the sixth, as you might have expected. The seventh was a key inning with Grud (the league’s leading hitter coming into the game), Alex Gordon and Guillen coming up. Grud bounced back to the pitcher — it wasn’t his night. Gordon had a feisty at-bat. He worked the count to 3-1, then watched an obvious ball four go by — way up and way in — only the umpire Brian Knight, now getting in the spirit of things, called it a strike. After a foul ball, Lester threw a fastball up, and Gordon just couldn’t get around on it, he lofted a fly ball to left. Guillen went down swinging.
Then, it seemed inevitable. The fans grew louder and hungrier — they began to cheer every strike. The press box began to bustle, calls to the office, manic searches through record books, gallows humor about our early deadlines. The eighth inning was a backward K, a forward K and Mark Teahen’s decently hit fly ball to center field. Lester’s adrenaline fastballs pumped in at 95 mph. He had thrown 118 pitches.
And then there was the ninth — I’d never seen a no-hitter before. Well, that’s not exactly true. I saw a perfect game in Japan, and I saw a couple of high school no-hitters. I don’t want to say those don’t count. But I had never seen a Major League no hitter — never really come all that close to seeing one, at least in my memory. I don’t think this is surprising. What are the odds of seeing a no-hitter? A thousand to one? Now, what are the odds of seeing a lefty throw a no-hitter a Fenway Park? What are the odds of seeing a lefty who is also a cancer-survivor throwing a no-hitter at Fenway Park? The Lester story is so amazing that it’s almost numbing — it’s a television movie story. He was diagnosed with Lymphoma in September of 2006. Doctors called it “treatable,” which may have left people with the wrong impression, with the feeling that it was always certain that Lester would come back. No. Treatable lymphoma is still cancer, still life-threatening — both in real life and death way and in that more indefinite life-may-never-be-the-same way. He did not even want to talk about baseball for months, until the doctors said he had beaten it, until he felt strong enough to feel himself again. He felt unsure long after that.
In the ninth inning, Lester walked Esteban German on four high fastballs. These were nerves. The Fenway crowd was inside him now — everyone wanted to be a part of this story, this moment. Lester’s next pitch was a high fastball too, but fortunately for him Tony Pena Jr. was hitting, and it’s in his blood, it goes back to his father, Penas have long had a weakness for high fastballs. He swung and missed. He chopped the next ball to third base. Out No. 1.
Lester still seemed nervous. He would say afterward that the no-hitter did “cross his mind a time or two” in that final inning — of course, it was much more than that. The no-hitter was crushing. It was everywhere. Lester almost hit DeJesus with a fastball. He threw DeJesus five pitches, and maybe none of them would have been called strikes. But the no-hitter was not just crushing Lester — the Royals felt it too. Maybe they felt it more. “I just wanted to get a hit,” DeJesus said. He yanked a ground ball to first baseman Kevin Youkilis. Out No. 2.
And finally, Alberto Callaspo came to the plate. Royals manager Trey Hillman had seen enough of Grudzielanek in the seventh inning — it just wasn’t Grud’s day with two strikeouts, a grounder back to the pitcher and a dropped-pop up. Still, it was odd — Grud did come into the game hitting .331. Instead, the final batter would be someone no one knew, a young infielder who almost never struck out in his minor league career. He looked scared out of his mind. Lester had thrown 125 pitches up to that point, his 126th was a 95-mph heater on the inside corner of the plate, as nasty a pitch as there is. Callaspo managed to foul it off into the right field stands, and you could sense that his hands hurt after he hit it.
The wind was cold and it was whipping, the fans were on their feet, Callaspo swung and missed pitch 127, a high fastball. The next pitch was up in Callaspo’s eyes — and he still had enough sense of himself to lay off. The next pitch, another fastball, bore inside, and once again Callaspo fought it off, once again his hands had to hurt. If you looked around Fenway you mostly saw black — people were all bundled up in their winter coats — and the sound was like a wailing, like the wind blowing through your garage, and then Jon Lester reared back and threw the most unhittable pitch of an unhittable night, a 96-mph fastball, high and away, rising, Callaspo swung, missed by two feet, and the no-hitter was done. Then there were celebrations and moping, hugs and cell phone calls and all that stuff I wrote about here.
And as I left Fenway Park, I thought again about that feeling I had, that feeling you get sometimes as a sports fan, that feeling that “Hey, I’m going to see something unforgettable.” Truth is, most of the time, the feeling dies inside you because unforgettable things don’t happen very often. Here’s the great thing, though. Sometimes, they do.
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65 Comments, Comment or Ping
KCJoe
Damn you’re good!
May 20th, 2008
Dan
Joe,
my brother is also a lymphoma survivor - he had a far worse diagnosis than Lester’s but that changed from the moment that I was determined to be a “perfect” bone marrow match. Now he is a lawyer in D.C. and its been over ten years since the transplant but I still think about it at this time of year, around the anniversary.
So it was a little extra emotional watching Lester complete his masterpiece last night, but I am also glad that you happened to be in Boston to put your own stamp on the feelings and emotions of such a special moment.
Thanks - and I really will buy the book for Father’s Day.
May 20th, 2008
Josh
I usually tape Sox games… I didn’t last night. I usually check the score… I didn’t last night. I get to work, pull up espn… Lester threw a no-hitter. Then I remember… wasn’t Joe Posnanski at the game? My favorite team has a no-hitter and my favorite writer is there to cover it? What a great morning! Both of these stories are amazing Joe…
May 20th, 2008
Rod Hoffmane`
I woke up thinking the same thing as Josh: Pos is in town. Gotta read him first.
Thanks for this.
May 20th, 2008
Mike
Ditto; when I, a Sox fan, saw Lester had thrown a no-hitter, my first thought was “I wonder if Posnanski has any reason to write about this …”
May 20th, 2008
Caroline
Beautifully said, Joe. I got the feeling around the fourth inning, but I’m a crazy superstitious fan and kept telling myself I was nuts, that Lester was pitching a great game but a few walks and hits and it would be a close one again in no time. It’s so wonderful when that irrational but irresistible buzz you get turns out to be justified.
There’s a teenage kid named Anthony Rizzo, a 2007 draft pick who started the year out at single A Greenville, who was recently diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I have to imagine that this morning’s headlines are a comfort to him.
May 20th, 2008
Levi Stahl
I was just glad that we happened to be watching the Cubs/Astros game on ESPN last night, which meant we got to see the end of the game when they cut over. Quite a scene.
As for the feeling of knowing what’s going to happen, Joe, I’ve felt it once before, too. I was playing basketball, and just as I took a pass near the top of the key, I knew that I couldn’t miss this shot–or any other shot I wanted to take. I’m not a good shooter, by any means, but I sank the shot, took a pass on the next trip down the floor and sank that shot, too . . . and the feeling left. But it was unforgettable: that was nearly ten years ago and I still almost get chills thinking about that feeling.
May 20th, 2008
skott
i actually was at the game last night! i took the woman i’m dating to her first RedSox game as an adult (she had gone once as an 11 year old) and it was truely amazing. obviously, i’ve never seen a no hitter in person and just being there and feeling the tide rise, inning after inning…thats all i can say to describe it. the tide was rising, everyone was getting it at the same time…
fenway was cold, damn cold and i got the feeling there were a lot of people very interested in leaving but everyone sort of caught on around the 5th that Lester was throwing a no no and he was actually getting better as the game went on.
there was a feeling in the park unlike anything i’ve ever felt. it was quiet, but pervasive. i’ve been to game 7’s in the old boston garden for the Bruins, and that was chaos from the drop of the puck, but this was so different from that.
even the end, the roar of the crowd, not knowing the outcome, the flashbulbs, the game not in question, just our place in history. sharing history with lester and his personal, incredible drama. so great.
amazing night @ fenway.
May 20th, 2008
Scott
Fantastic piece, Joe. Congrats on witnessing such a feat, and thanks for sharing with us.
May 20th, 2008
KCJoe
As a Royals fan, it took me about 10 minutes after that last swing and miss to pause and acknowledge what I had just watched on TV. I would echo Bannister’s quote that if it was going to happen, I’m glad it was Lester.
All the things people talk about playing in Fenway came out last night. The crowd is into almost every 2 strike count. The Royals (and yes the home plate umpire, too) seemed caught up in it.
All in all, from the Royals side, it is just a loss. And if they take 2 of the next 3, it’s not even a bad loss. If it starts a 2 week hitting slump, then it’s a BAD loss.
May 20th, 2008
Jason
I got the same “special” feeling last year watching Verlander’s no hitter. It was probably the second or third inning that I became glued to my set, sure that I was going to witness history.
May 20th, 2008
Mikey
Skott, that’s awesome! That’s some date. You may have to stay with this girl for quite a while.
Joe, congrats on your first no-no. I have only seen one: Doc Gooden at Yankee Stadium in 1996. About as sloppy a no-hitter as has ever been pitched. Still quite a thrill. Definitely on the list of things you want to experience live in baseball at least once (a no-no, a Series clincher, catching a foul ball).
One of the things that’s cool about our cell phone/blackberry/cable TV world is that whenever a guy takes a no-no into the seventh it’s like all of baseball fandom comes alive. The phone starts ringing, the text messages start coming in. Are you watching NESN? Where are you? Can you get to a TV? The number of people around the country watching that game probably increased 30 times over from the sixth inning to the ninth. I dare say there’s nothing else like it in all of sports.
May 20th, 2008
AK
Just like last year’s Game 4 in the Series, I got tears in my eyes as the 9th rolled on. The difference was that Lester was on the mound when this one ended, pumping his fist and getting lifted high by ‘Tek.
Hollywood’s got nothing on Fenway.
May 20th, 2008
Mike Williams
I’m sick and tired of the G.D. Red Sox.
First, it was Big Papi acting like an idiot when he stole a meaningless base against us a couple of years ago, and now this.
I used to root for them, mainly because they were the only AL team that could stand up to and defeat the G.D. Yankees, but not anymore.
May 20th, 2008
Jess in MA
Oh man, I didn’t think that anything would come close to Clay Buchholz’ no hitter last September, certainly not so soon. I am so glad you were in town so that you would write about, even if it means your team had to be on the flip side of the no-no. I have no idea how Lester stayed so calm in the middle of all that! My hat off to him!
May 20th, 2008
Rob V.
Thanks, Joe. I was following the game online, then tuned in to ESPN for the final inning. The whole time I believed Lester would get the no-hitter, and part of the reason was because it just seemed fitting that you’d be there to write it up. Lester came through, and in a smaller way, so did you.
May 20th, 2008
KCJoe
Mike Williams,
I assume by “us”, you mean the Royals, and to a degree I share your sentiment. I used to feel a kinship to Red Sox fans because they hated the Yankees more than we do.
Now with 2 WS victories, they are no longer the loveable 2nd best team in the AL East…they ARE the Yankees only without Steinbrenner.
I guess what I was saying is I watched the game as a Royals fan but in the end I am also a baseball fan and have to acknowledge a great accomplishment.
May 20th, 2008
Boda
Joe,
I can’t begin to explain the excitement I felt last night as I caught up on your blog during the Sox turn at bat in the 8th inning and realized you were in town and would be writing about the no-hitter. For all the good fortune we Boston fans have enjoyed over the last decade or so, we’ve paid it all back by being subjected to the Boston sports media.
You have a ton of fans here. I hope the fans of KC appreciate what they have.
May 20th, 2008
Char
Ted Williams had Updike, and now Jon Lester has Posnanski.
Thank you, Joe.
May 20th, 2008
Ron
Pena gets to bat in the 9th inning of a no-hitter, but the leading hitter in the league doesn’t? Please explain that one to me.
It wasn’t his night? It hasn’t been Pena’s year, and he still gets to hit?
Does anyone need anymore proof that Hillman is not a major league manager? Becasue I don’t.
May 20th, 2008
SarahA
I’ve seen a no hitter: Eric Milton of the Twins on Sept 11, 1999, my 20th birthday. My dad had taken me and I still have the ticket somewhere. They don’t even have footage of it because the Twins were lousy then and it wasn’t broadcast. I just sat there with my dad in that awful stadium and enjoyed the heck out of it.
May 20th, 2008
twayn
Joe,
You tell stories the way Ted Williams hit baseballs.
May 20th, 2008
Byron
Great piece Joe. When I woke up this morning and found out that Lester threw a no-no, I was wondering if you’d write something. Glad you did.
Also, to add to the ironies (John Farrell Sox pitching coach, almost no-hit KC) is Luis Alicia is the Sox first base coach.
My mother was offered tickets to last night’s game but she turned them down because it was “too cold”. She just called a few moments ago and is kicking herself.
And Mike, I’m not sure how a no-hitter and a stolen base could turn you off to an entire team. If Lester had pitched a one-hitter, would you still like the Red Sox? That’s about the strangest reasoning for hating a team that I’ve ever heard.
Not to turn this into a Sox fan thing, but as a Red Sox fan for over 22 years, I can tell you that no Boston fan ever wanted to be tagged with the “lovable losers” reputation that Cubs fans seem to have. Who wants to see their team lose?
May 20th, 2008
Aaron M.
Ron,
We weren’t going to win the game at that point, I really don’t get pulling Grudz, but at some point you have to keep giving Pena shots or his confidence will suffer too. It will suffer so much that he will start thinking, “well, there’s runners on base here, Hillman’s surely going to pull me for Callaspo.” Maybe Grudz just looked like he didn’t care last night. This is small though. A manager has much bigger fish to fry than who will bat in the ninth inning of a 7-0 game where you’re being no hit.
I mean Hillman has gotten them to stop making stupid bonehead plays in the field. I would consider that makes him a success all by itself. Also, he stopped starting Gload at first and Butler has played a ton there recently. That makes us better offensively because we can put Guillen or Olivo (vs. lefties) at DH.
I used to really like Gload, but he has morphed into a super sub like German, and to a lesser extent Callaspo. We need to trade German if we can.
May 20th, 2008
Aaron M.
Quote: twayn
May 20th, 2008 at 9:41 am
Joe,
You tell stories the way Ted Williams hit baseballs.
That gave me an idea for a nickname for Joe or this website:
The Splendid Splog
A splog is a blog created solely to spread spam or spam links added to the comments section of a blog, while this doesn’t fit Joe’s blog exactly, I just like the word SPLOG.
Rany has me in a nickname giving mood.
May 20th, 2008
Patrick
“… one of the five best words in sports — maybe.”
I’m curious what the other four are…
May 20th, 2008
Brian
Nice piece of writing about a nice piece of pitching, etc.
Don’t forget Luis Alicea, who broke up the Todd Richie bid, is the Sox First Base Coach.
May 20th, 2008
Amanda
I have to say Joe, the only time I would ever consider saying, “Let me see what the other team’s beat writer has to say about that” is when the Sox are playing the Royals. Awesome blog and I really liked the game story as well.
May 20th, 2008
CharlesH
I’m with those who couldn’t wait to read Joe’s take on this Lester gem after seeing the result. It’s not exactly shocking that it is the best, now that I’ve made the rounds reading others. Thanks!
May 20th, 2008
Zizzle
My boring “no-hitter residue” stories:
I was supposed to have been at the Yankee-red Sox game on July 4, 1983, but the plans got screwed up and I missed it. I was in a restaurant when I heard that Righetti had pitched a no-hitter, and I wanted to throw my meal across the room. That “1 in 1,000″ stat (actually, more like 1-in-1,200) tormented me. A decade later, Jim Abbott healed me. I’d like to shake that man’s nub.
A year ago, I was at the Stadium when Chien Ming-Wang took a perfect game into the 8th. I was telling my seatmates he had it going in the 2nd inning. There was something about the way Wang was throwing that smelled different.
May 20th, 2008
Buchholz Surfer
You know, Pena came very close to breaking up the no-hitter in the 9th with that high chopper. If it had bounced a bit higher, he might well have beaten it out with a cheap infield hit.
Not that Pena’s any good or anything, just shows how fine the line can be between a no-hitter and a near miss.
May 20th, 2008
Dan England
I remember feeling that way the moment Chalmers got the ball just before he made that shot. It was very strange. I still went nuts of course, but I do remember that calm feeling right when he got the ball and was squaring up.
May 20th, 2008
Jake
Wow… I was vote # 500 in the poll.
–true story.
May 20th, 2008
Matt in Toledo
Count me as one whose thought almost immediately after hearing the n0-hitter was going down was, “Isn’t Posnanski in Boston? That should make a good post.”
Then, of course, the actual post was much better than expected.
May 20th, 2008
Mikey
“… one of the five best words in sports — maybe.”
“I’m curious what the other four are…”
No beer cutoff enforced?
Tom Brady is injured?
Berman retirement rumored near?
May 20th, 2008
Mikey
My real five best words in sports:
Game Seven. Free tickets. Overtime.
Any situation involving these words is always good.
May 20th, 2008
Roger
I don’t have a no-hitter story, but I have a hitless game story. I was at the Matt Young game at Municipal Stadium in 1992. A double-header. Young started game one, gives up no hits, but takes the loss. Since he didn’t come out for the ninth (The Indians were winning, so they didn’t bat), it’s considered a hitless game, not a no-hitter. The real kick in the groin was game 2 had Roger Clemens in it. Clemens through a 2-hit shutout. I sat through about six hours of baseball and saw two hits for the Tribe. One of the oddest days I’ve ever had at the ballpark.
May 20th, 2008
KCJoe
Pitchers and catchers report.
May 20th, 2008
caryn
Stuff like this is why I bother to even try to write about baseball.
So much good writing on this today.
May 20th, 2008
KCJoe
Although for radio and tv guys they could be:
One of the best
or
arguably among the best
or
future hall of famer
May 20th, 2008
Andy Sonnanstine's Scruffy Beard
Joe,
I was watching the ESPN feed of the Cubs/Astros game last night. (I love our announcers but am always interested in hearing other points of view…and I miss Gary Thorne calling hockey.) At any rate, when they announced that Jon Lester had a no-no through 8 and they were going to show the 9th live, the SECOND thing I thought was, “what a great story he is, I hope he gets it.” The first was, of course, “I can’t wait to read JoPo’s blog about this tomorrow.”
That’s just about the highest compliment I can pay any writer, don’t you think? Great job as usual.
May 20th, 2008
Gracie
I was directed to this blog by Chad Finn’s Touching All the Bases. He was right, this was really enjoyable to read and I have a new bookmark! I had tears in my eyes after the game last night watching the celebrations.
All I could think of, though, as I read the first half of your piece was how much I knew exactly what you were talking about when it comes to “having a feeling” that something wonderful was going to happen.
Last spring I took my teenaged daughter to Fenway on Mother’s Day and we witnessed the Miracle. My daughter is fan enough to know that we weren’t going anywhere “to beat the crowd” in the bottom of the ninth despite the score so we moved down to the front row immediately behind the ondeck circle where some clueless fans had left their seats. As soon as the Orioles catcher dropped that popup I told her and everyone around us who would listen that we were going to win. Halfway through that inning, we all lost our voices to screaming and the rest is history.
During the rain delay Friday night NESN showed the replay of that inning in its entirety. I tivo’d it and my daughter and I can always say we were there.
As it was Mother’s Day, the Red Sox children were onfield after the game before the public was allowed to run the bases. There is no cuter child than tiny 3-year-old Ortiz air-batting at home plate, clapping his hands together just like his dad and running down to first base after his imaginary hit. We were all joking that he was faster than his dad!
May 20th, 2008
dorasaga
Talking about greatness, Mike Piazza retires.
Any thoughts?
May 20th, 2008
Mike Williams
Of course I’m happy for Lester - that’s a great story.
Perhaps my anger at the Sox is irrational - but that’s sorta what happens when you watch a team you love so much embarrass you for over two decades.
Sorry to the Sox fans if I vent at you - but put yourselves in the shoes of a Royals fan. If the tables were turned, and Billy Butler stole a base against the Sox, then proceeded to remove the base as a souvenir in a game played IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SEASON, and then the Royals won two WS while your team continually finished last with 100+ losses, and then, just when your team starts to look like they might turn a corner and begin to be relevant again, they get no-hit by a Royals pitcher.
Sorta see how I feel now?
May 20th, 2008
Justyo
In was lucky enough to be at the Hawks - Celtics / Bird - Wilkins battle in the playoffs in 1988 - the one that LeBron compared his battle with Pierce the other night and at some point in the 4th, when Larry was willing the Celts to victory and hit some sort of crazy falling down underhand flip, there was this moment of stunned silence during which every single person in the Boston Garden knew, and silently acknowledged that they weren’t just watching an intense playoff game, they were witnessing history. It was electric and awesome. And what’s more, there was a sense of true community amongst every person in that building Hawk and Celtic and staff and fan alike. There was nothing but the game. The outside world didn’t matter. The greatest part is that the feeling lasted almost 45 minutes as the back and forth just escalated and the game played out. This is what is so great about live sporting events - the shared experience, the thousands of clenched fists, racing hearts and collective calm and chaos.
Great stuff Joe.
May 20th, 2008
Tom
Even longer than the odds of seeing that no-hitter are the odds of reading a 2500-word Joe-post without a single Pozterisk.
(Great post, Joe).
May 20th, 2008
Sirk
Joe,
Congrats. I’ve never seen a no-no, but I was visiting home last week and saw Droobs turn the unassisted triple play against the Jays last Monday. It doesn’t have the tense, dramatic build-up of a no-no, but it will do. In terms of exceptionally rare lightning-strike moments, I have been lucky enough to personally witness the 14th of 14 unassisted triple plays in MLB history, and the 11th of 11 99-yard touchdowns from scrimmage in NFL history.
Maybe someday I’ll see a no-hitter. I watched the Jim Abbott no-no against the Tribe from start to finish on television, but that doesn’t really count. The closest I have ever come was Randy Johnson in the first ever game at the Jake, when Sandy Alomar broke it up in the 8th. A few years ago at Wrigley, I saw Carlos Zambrano get an out or two into the 7th before surrendering a flare double to Geoff Jenkins that kicked up chalk. But that’s about it.
Thanks for the great recap of a special night at Fenway.
Sirk
May 20th, 2008
Mike S
I’ll never forget the no-hitter I saw. It was the nl’s first combined no-hitter — Kent Mercker, Mark Wohlers and Alejandro Pena. It was in the middle of the great pennant race of ‘91 so our adrenalin was up. The scorer was generous on an infield grounder to Pendelton.
It was the same way. I noticed Mercker hadn’t given up a hit about the fourth inning but knew he wouldn’t go the whole night as he was a spot starter. I had seen so many games where a pitcher got through four, five or six innings only to see it go.
May 20th, 2008
John M.
Wow! You knew a potentially Triple A-bound, walk-happy, cancer survivor was going to throw a game of no-hit baseball?
Can you please notify me when that feeling comes again so I can take it to Vegas? Thanks.
Great read as usual.
May 20th, 2008
Curtis
I enjoyed your column about the 8th inning of the game last night, and I was surprised that you gave Gordon a pass, even though he did work the walk. If I remember correctly, he swung at a 2-0 curve ball that he really couldn’t have done anything with, and then he took the 2-1 fastball that looked to be thigh high over the outside part of the plate, the most routine looking fly-ball pitch I could imagine.
The beginning and the ending of that PA were very nice from Gordon - he showed a lot of discipline and hung in there, but he swung at a pitcher’s pitch on 2-0 that would have been tough to elevate, and then he took his pitch at 2-1 that would have led to probably tying the game.
Am I being too hard on him? Anyone else feel like that?
May 21st, 2008
SJH
Joe, I was at Fenway on Monday and I think you could not have captured the beauty of the evening any better. Out in the bleachers we could feel something special was happening and the energy level kept rising and rising. It was a wonderful night.
May 21st, 2008
Jan Johnson
This goes automatically in the bid of best baseball writing - close to a no hitter in its own right. Thanks.
May 21st, 2008
KCJoe
Curtis,
Yes. No.
He is a Good, Young hitter. Good enough to work the walk and young enough to guess on the 2-0 he was going to swing at what should have been a strike. I don’t mean the call was bad…well you know what I mean.
May 21st, 2008
Byron
Mikey, no I still really can’t see why you hate the Red Sox because the Royals aren’t really good. That really doesn’t make any sense to me. Do you hate the Athletics? The Angels? The Dodgers? The Blue Jays?
All of these teams have won World Series titles since 1985.
Just about every team has been no-hit at one point in their existence, it’s just one game in 162.
As far as the Papi thing, meh. If Billy Butler did that, I’d probably think it was pretty funny and move on.
May 21st, 2008
ajnrules
Heh. I watched the Bret Saberhagen no-hitter a few days ago on iTunes…it’s not really in the same league, but it’s good Royals history. Anyways, congratulations at witnessing another electric moment in baseball history, and even though I strongly dislike the Red Sox, I’d have to give Lester a tip of my cap just this once.
May 21st, 2008
skott
gordon sure did look good last night
May 21st, 2008
Chris C.
The other four greatest words in sports:
1. Game 1 (Game 7’s are amazing, but Game 1 still has all the anticipation of the series to come. Even the biggest underdogs are still in it.)
2. Overtime (agree with Mikey there)
3. Doubleheader (either on TV or in person)
4. Comeback (nothing more compelling)
Great read Joe.
May 21st, 2008
John McCann
I was at the game in Fenway with the 2 triple plays, and I was just visiting Boston. Sure is a lot of history in that park.
I know what you mean about “that feeling”. On a much smaller scale I love it when a fight breaks out in a hockey game, and you could just feel it about to happen before the gloves even drop.
May 21st, 2008
Mersault
Re that 3-1 pitch to Gordon:
http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/blog_article/strike-zone-silliness/
May 22nd, 2008
McKingford
I remember, as a kid, watching (on tv) Milt Wilcox pitch a perfect game through 8 2/3 innings. George Kell did the tv play-by-play, and although he was a bit of a Tiger homer, wasn’t over the top. Yet I’ll never forget when Jerry Hairston singled with 2 down in the ninth to not only end the perfect game, but the no-no too, Kell *crying* out: “OH NO!!!”. And to this day I don’t even think it was about the Tigers not getting a perfect game, but simply not *seeing* a perfect game…
I also had the good fortune to see Roger Clemens last game as a Bosox. The Tigers were *terrible* that year, and it was late September, so getting tickets was no big deal. I was always partial to watching a game in Tiger Stadium from the right field porch, while my dad preferred the third base line. But for this game, for the first - and only - time ever, we got scalper seats behind the plate, about 7 rows up. After all, it was the Rocket.
I usually score a game I attend, and I’m glad I did this one. By the sixth inning, it dawned on me that this was a pretty special game - Roger was striking out Tigers left and right. There were only about 5,000 people at that game, and by the 7th inning it felt like half of them were looking over my shoulder as I was scoring, so they could see just how *many* strikeouts Roger had. By the 8th, it was clear that the strikeout record was in reach, so the fans started rooting *against the Tigers*. I’ll never forget Alan Trammell flying out to left in the 9th - everyone in the stadium booed; it was probably the worst he’s ever been booed at home. But it wasn’t for making an out, it was for not *striking* out. I thought the record was 21, so with Trammell’s flyout, Roger was going to fall short. Although he struck out the last batter to get to 20, I went home that night thinking I’d seen something special, but not the record. It was only then that I found out he’d tied the record (his own). I also remember what was left of the dismal crowd giving Clemens a standing O after the last out, and all in all, that was the coolest baseball game I’ve been to.
May 22nd, 2008
Locklandworth
Amazing stuff man.
May 22nd, 2008
OCD SS
Just as another little piece to add; not only is John Farrell the Red Sox pitching coach, but Luis Alicea, who broke up a no hitter against the Royals, is their 1B coach.
May 25th, 2008
Mark P
I attended Dustin McGowan’s eight innings of no-hit ball last summer, so that’s the closest I’ve ever been to seeing a no-no live. Still, the odds of being there to see a broken-up no-hitter are pretty high too. At least, that’s what I tell myself…
Jun 22nd, 2008
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