Monday, August 15, 2005

August 15, 2005:  Je Ne Sais Quoi

I was planning to post an article about the best offensive teams of all-time, but I didn’t like it very much. (I’ll probably revisit that topic later.)  Instead, on this Sunday humid summer night (August 14), a night in which the Red Sox-White Sox series finale was washed out, I entertained thoughts of autumn.

While waiting for the Sox game to be restarted or postponed, I looked up stats for the 2003 American League Division Series between Oakland and Boston.  My friend and I were discussing the A’s 2005 post-season prospects and I was checking out the post-season success of certain current A’s.  I wanted to find the Oakland lineup from that 2003 series to see if Eric Chavez and Scott Hatteberg batted 3^rd and 5^th respectively.   (I know—quite random, but this is what I do when I’m bored.)  I couldn’t find the box scores on baseball-reference.com, so I did a search and found them at mlb.com.  (Chavey and Hatteberg did bat in those spots, by the way.)

I read a recap of Game 3, the game in which the A’s made about 30 critical mistakes before Trot Nixon hit a game-winning homer in the 12^th. (My favorite Oakland Game 3 gaff was Eric Byrnes failing to tag home plate after he slid into Jason Varitek.  Instead, Byrnes, clearly in pain, pushes Varitek as Jason ran to the backstop for the ball and tagged him out.  All the while, the A’s dugout is imploring Eric to go back and tag home plate while the oblivious Byrnes rubs his shin.)   As I read the recap, I noticed a link where I could play a rebroadcast of the game online.  I didn’t know such a thing existed!  Rest assured, I was all over that.  I watched a significant chunk of Game 3 before viewing Game 4 in its entirety.

Game 4 was the one in which Oakland’s Tim Hudson left with an injury after one inning.  But Jermaine Dye helped the A’s take a 4-2 lead with a three-run blast off John Burkett in the sixth.  With the score 4-3 in the eighth, the A’s brought in Keith Foulke.  If you look at the box scores in this series, you’ll find that Foulke was quite amazing.  He pitched three innings of no-hit ball in Game 1 and pitched another scoreless inning the next day to close out Game 2.  In Game 4, however, Foulke allowed a one-out, wall-ball double to Nomar, and, after retiring Todd Walker on a sharp linedrive to center, he allowed a groundball single to left by Manny, putting runners on first and third with two outs.  Foulke fell behind Big Papi, three-and-one, before blowing a fastball by him.  (I’d forgotten that Papi was hitless in the ALDS to that point.)  The 3-2 pitch was also a fastball, but Papi blasted it over the head of Jermaine Dye to score both Nomar and Manny, giving Boston a 5-4 lead that Scott Williamson would save in the ninth.

A couple of thoughts here:  First, I still can’t understand how that ball off the bat of David Ortiz did not hop over the fence—in which case it would have been a ground-ruled double and Ramirez would not have scored.  I don’t think I ever, in 20 years of watching Sox games at Fenway, have seen a ball hit to that part of the ball park that short-hopped the fence, which is about four feet high.  Not only that, but the ball then hopped over the very tall Dye, allowing the slow-footed but always-stylish Ramirez to score from first—amazing.

Second, I did not see a single pitch of this game on TV.  I was in Minnesota for an Ultimate Frisbee tournament that weekend.  I’d watched Game 3 at the house of an alcoholically-inclined teammate Saturday night, but we had just finished our last Frisbee game the next day when Game 4 began.  I had my old-school Walkman—which requires special headphones to fit inside the slanted headphone hole, a hole that I created when my headphone wire was caught in a backyard bush in the spring of ’98—so I was able to listen to the start of the game at a local Culver’s while enjoying a tasty butter burger and a blackberry shake for lunch. (So good—I think Culver’s is better than In-N-Out in Cali, but many others would disagree.)  Soon, though, we had to make the lengthy drive back to Chicago.

My Walkman did not have reception in my friend Nuprin’s car, but he was able to find a station carrying the national broadcast.  We listened to the middle innings, bemoaning Dye’s crushing homer in the sixth.  But ominous signs appeared.  The station signal kept going in and out as we drove farther and farther away from the Twin Cities.  By the time the eighth inning arrived, we had a sporadic signal that left the outcome of each play in doubt.  This is an approximate recollection of how the bottom of the eighth went down in Nuprin’s car.

(The main characters are the broadcaster—I think it was Dan Shulman—and three then-seniors at Northwestern:  myself, known as Cranston; Alex Louie, known as Nuprin—because he’s little, yellow and different; and fellow Ultimate team captain Stukel, known as Stukel or Stukes.)

Broadcaster:  Garciaparra steps in…STATICSTATICSTATIC…one out… STATICSTATICSTATIC…eighth inning.  The pitch from Foulke… STATICSTATICSTATIC…

Cranston:  What happened?!

Nuprin:  I don’t know, man!

Broadcaster:  …and Garciaparra steps out to adjust his gloves… STATICSTATICSTATIC…

Cranston:  Oh, he’s still batting.

Broadcaster:  …the pitch to Nomar…drive to left-cent…STATIC…off the…STATIC…and Garcia…STATIC…with one out!

Cranston:  What happened?!  I think it was a double!

Nuprin:  I don’t know, man!  This is awesome!

Cranston:  Stukes, can you adjust the reception at all?

Stukes:  It’s digital, Cranston, ya idiot.

Cranston:  Shh…

Broadcaster:  STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC…and there’s two outs in the 8^th.

Cranston:  Damn it!  I guess Walker got out.  Stukes, I think when you lean forward the reception is better.  Could you lean forward?  Thanks.

Nuprin:  This is unbelievable!

Broadcaster:  STATIC…and Ramirez steps in… STATICSTATICSTATIC.

Cranston:  I can’t believe that this is happening—the most important moment of the season and we have no reception!  How far is Madison?

Stukel (turns around):  We’re not close.

Cranston:  Don’t stop leaning forward, Stukes!

Broadcaster:  STATIC…a base hit to left field…STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC

Cranston and Nuprin:  Yes!

Cranston:  Did anyone score?

Broadcaster:  STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC…Ortiz steps in with two on and two out… STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC

Cranston:  Nomar couldn’t score…damn it.

Broadcaster:  STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC…drive to deep right field… STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC STATICSTATICSTATIC…

Cranston:  What happened?!  What happened?!

Nuprin:  I can’t believe it cut off right there!  Cranston, you must be dying.

We would never hear from Dan Shulman again.  Amazingly and improbably, another group of guys from the team in fellow captain Andy Wade’s van happened to pull up beside us on the highway.

Cranston:  Stukes, get your cell phone and call Wade.  See if he has reception.

Stukel:  My cell phone’s in my bag in the trunk.

Cranston:  Nuprin?

Nuprin:  Mine too.

Cranston:  Damn it!

Cranston (screaming out the window to the other car):  What did Ortiz do?!

Wade and his brother Jack show the thumbs up sign.

Now it was just a waiting game.  We tried to stay close to Wade’s van because it still had reception, but we mostly just waited.  Having chosen Nuprin's car because a ride with him was seven hours of guaranteed hysterical randomness, I now rued the decision.  But I could do nothing about that now.

After about 20 minutes passed—interminable to me, Wade’s van comes up along side our car with everyone inside cheering and banging on the windows excitedly.  Someone in the back held up the team wipe board—which we used to diagram plays.  The wipe board read “Final—Sox 5, A’s 4.”  What a game!

*          *          *

The Red Sox would win Game 5 behind home runs from Varitek and Ramirez.  I watched the first six innings of that game with my girlfriend in her dorm room before moving down a flight to watch with a fellow Sox fan from Rhode Island along with our Red Sox-converted friend from Iowa.  Folks in the stodgy dorm—Plex, for those of you who know Northwestern—were annoyed by my loud bang of a lounge table and our collective cheering when Derek Lowe ended the game by fanning a pair of A’s on identical, physically impossible sinkers that each broke at least 16 inches (no exaggeration—check the tape).

Of course, the Red Sox would go on to lose the ALCS in seven games that I lived and eventually died with in similar fashion.  But the eventual pain did not erase the delightful fervor described herein.

There’s just something about playoff baseball.  I can’t wait ’til October.

(To watch playoff games from the last four seasons, go to this site.  You will, however, need to have an MLB.tv subscription to watch the games.)