There was one of those sweet, perfect, baseball moments last night. For just a few seconds an event of such pure satisfaction occurs and your lifelong love and wonder of the game is reinforced. All the bad baseball is replaced by the magical coincidence of talent and luck that defines what the game is for those who love it.
Bases loaded, down by two runs in the sixth, two outs, Vogie called off the bench to pitch it. Who of us haven't played this out in our childhood backyards? Not as dramatic as the bottom of the ninth, but full of all the suspense you could ever want. Add to that: Houston ups the ante... they go to their bullpen to bring in a leftie, a disadvantage to the left-handed hitting Vogelbach.
What's going to happen? Guduan throws a strike. Next pitch Vogie crushes the ball, absolutely demolishes it, with that funny, short, swift swing he has. He blasts it to right, on a line and hits the wall... hard... just missing a home run; the balls flies past the centerfielder as the rightfielder who races to track it down.
Vogie clears the bases. Ms take the lead. Just two feet short of an iconic grand salami, but really sweet, watching those Mariner runners cross the plate in fast succession, one, two, three.
Let's forget for a moment the rest of the game, which ended as so many have, with a loss made possible when relievers Brennan and Biddle manage to give up seven runs. Too bad, not surprising.
But there was that moment, that instant, when you saw, knew, sensed, Vogie had fulfilled his heroic destiny. Presented with the ultimate challenge, this unlikely barrel of a ballplayer hit the ball hard to put his team on top. Worth the wait, well worth the patience. And hope.
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