Witnessing History

Sometimes we are fortunate enough to witness history right when it’s happening. Not the kind of history those who brought picnic lunches to the Battle of Bull Run at the beginning of the Civil War witnessed; but the kind of event one doesn’t pay much mind to then realizes something historic is about to occur. Neil Armstrong walking on the moon falls in the former category, while a Super Bowl falls in the latter. I have been fortunate enough to witness several examples of both kinds of history.

Last Saturday, through no doing of my own, I got to watch Roy Halladay of the Philadelphia Phillies pitch the 20th perfect game in Major League history. I did not have the foresight to attend the game in person even though the stadium is a mere fifteen minute drive from my home, being the Florida Marlins were the opponent. My wife and I were relegated to watching Halladay’s gem on television, at her suggestion no less. This was the first perfect game I’ve seen, but not the first no-hitter. And for you laypersons, there is a significant difference.

A no-hitter is exactly was it says; no hits allowed by the pitcher. Sure, the fielders must make the plays, which is what’s so special about a perfect game; all the players made the plays when called upon. In a no-hitter, there can be errors, men can reach base via walks as well. Hence, the game is not “perfect.”
My wife will say the game was far from perfect anyway; the final score was 1-0. For a non-aficionado, watching only one run score is an exercise in tedium. I on the other hand, am enthralled with pitchers duals. Each batter becomes more noteworthy, each play more important, each move made by the manager comes under more scrutiny, each confrontation between pitcher and hitter becomes a game within the game itself.
Some of you may think I need to be on some sort of prescription medication.

People don’t normally attend or watch games on TV anticipating a no-hitter. They tune in or show up to see runs, preferably home runs. If you wanted to see the effect Halladay’s excellence had on the average person, all you had to do was see the expression on the face of the female companion of Marlins owner Jeffery Luria.
At various times throughout the game, she could be caught yawning, glancing at her watch, or chatting with anyone who’d listen. I could picture both my ex-wife and current wife acting the very same way had either been in attendance.

Both my ex-wife and current wife enjoy baseball to a point. The first no-hitter I saw pitched, my ex-wife begrudgingly got to see as well.

It was the first NBC Game of the Week broadcast back in 1984. I had promised to mow the lawn. I was just going to watch a couple of innings before I got started. At the end of the second inning my ex inquired if on was going to start mowing before the grass reached a height that would make it impossible to see out the living room window. Such a kidder! I told her I couldn’t leave the game now, Jack Morris of the Detroit Tigers was pitching a no-hitter against the Chicago White Sox. The likelihood Morris were to continue such mastery for seven more innings was unfathomable. No one ever gives a shit if a pitcher throws two no hit innings to start a game. However, it was enough to convince my ex to take a seat next to me to watch. With each subsequent inning in the books, the excitement level rose in our living room as well as with those who were announcing the game for television. By the time Morris registered the final out, we were jumping out of our skins. Morris did indeed wind up throwing a no-hitter that day. He did walk somebody negating the perfect game. Still, it was exciting to witness. I wouldn’t see another no-hitter for twelve years, but this one I’d get to see in person.

I have been fortunate enough to see well over six hundred Major League baseball games in person. Up until May of 1996, I had never witnessed a no-hitter. I was in attendance when the ground ball went between Bill Buckner’s legs in the 1986 World Series, but I’d never seen a no-hitter in person.

I was at Wrigley Field in May of 2001 to see Jon Leiber throw a 79 pitch one-hitter delayed by rain for forty-seven minutes midway through; but no no-hitter.

I watched Tom Seaver (on television) give up an opposite field single to Jimmy Qualls (who you may ask, but probably not?) of the Chicago Cubs, ruining Seaver’s perfect game with one out in the ninth inning; but I’d never seen a no-hitter live.

Then in 1996, Pembroke Lakes Optimist was selling Marlins tickets for a girl’s softball fundraiser. I was broke. I didn’t even have enough money to buy the nosebleed tickets being offered. Other Optimist members wanted me to come along. They said I could pay the tickets off in installments. Hell, at that time I needed to buy a stamp in installments. It was so bad, (How bad was it?) I needed a quarter down and two co-signers if I wanted two stamps. My son wanted to go, so we went.

Al Leiter was pitching that night. Leiter hailed from New Jersey, Cory’s and my home state, so that was a bonus. We did not go in anticipation of a no-hitter being thrown. You never do. You might say kiddingly after the batters in the first inning go down in order, “Hey, he’s got a no-hitter going.” But baseball superstition frowns on bringing up the subject of a no-hitter while in progress. However, among the throng from Pembroke Lakes Optimist a buzz started to swirl in the top of the seventh. When the last out was recorded I cried a little. The tears were fueled by the copious amount of beer I consumed, but also by the thought of being eyewitness to an historical baseball event. Last, Saturday night no tears were forthcoming. I have long since given up drinking, and it was only a goddamn baseball game for Christ sake. Besides, Halladay pitches for the Phillies.

Saturday night at our house is normally movie night on TV. HBO, Starz, TMC, and Showtime run new releases. Pay-per-view offers up their new lineup as well. This past weekend, nothing on the movie menu held any appeal for my wife or I. I’m too lazy to go to Blockbuster only to find out what I want to see is not available. I’m too cheap to go to the multiplex unless there’s a movie out that I believe will change my life as I know it. That being said, I was ready to channel surf until Helen suggested to check and see if the Marlins were on.

It is a rare occasion indeed when the wife suggests turning on a sporting event. Helen is up for watching golf if Tiger Woods is playing, and the Dolphins when in season. Aside from that, I’m on my own sportswise. That’s why we have multiple televisions right? I jumped at the opportunity to watch a baseball game with Helen. I switched to Foxsports Florida to find the Phillies (ugh) coming up in the top of the second inning. Josh Johnson the Marlins pitcher was at the top of his game as well. He only happened to be on the short end due to a Cameron Maybin three base error.

In the fifth inning the need-to-create-excitement-when-it-can-stand-on-its-own announcers pointed out prematurely that Roy Halladay had was perfect thus far. I commented on what dickheads they were by bringing the issue up so soon. So for the next four innings all these baseball “experts” could talk about was pitch count- which drives me apeshit- and the possibility of Halladay throwing a perfect game; which was made reference to at every airtime lull; which drove me batshit. I don’t know which form of antagonistic shit is worse, but I do know two dipshits were responsible for both.

Helen and I hung on every pitch in the last inning. As much as I hate the Phillies, I was rooting for Halladay, as were all the Marlins fans at the game. We all were watching history in the making. Major League baseball has been played for one hundred and thirty-four years. The amount of teams and games played has varied over those years. But well over two hundred thousand games have been played during than time. Only nineteen other times has anyone thrown a perfect game. Twenty-seven batters faced, twenty-seven retired. That means that less than 1/100th of 1% of the games pitched are perfect games and my wife and I got to see it.

To me, that’s historic. It may be only baseball historic, but it was a significant enough story to be aired on every national news broadcast. No, it’s not walking on the moon. Hell, many of you might even think it was just a stupid ‘ol baseball game. You may even think my wife and I wasted three precious hours of our lives watching a game on the idiot box. Well, I really don’t care what you think.