Lucky Day

Bottom of the 12th inning at Shea Stadium, slowly emptied from its pretty full capacity due to the lateness of the hour. Our hometown team is down a run after a defensive misstep by the first baseman, and arguably the catcher. One of the young stars of the team, a speedy defensive wonder showing more and more promise on the offensive side of the game, is leading off the last set of chances the Mets have to win. This is the last chance at winning and the tension is thick. San Francisco has brought in their closer, a former Met who has since had a bit or a resurgence and is pretty reliable as a shutdown pitcher.

I hate my life.

So Reyes steps in the box and takes one pitch. Fast and outside. Next pitch was pretty much in the same location. Now for the uninformed, San Francisco has no interest in seeing Reyes get on base at any cost because he has stolen more bases than 16 teams in the Major Leagues. Yes he has stolen more bases than the combined totals of 16 whole teams. So we don't want a hit or a walk or him being hit by a pitch.

The count now two balls and no strikes. The pitch sails in and just misses the outside corner. Three and 0. Now on this pitch, you never swing. It wouldn't make sense logically to miss the pitch and get an unnecessary strike when you might have gotten the fourth ball. So it's a strike. But the tension is thick on 3-1. And he takes it and crouches. He turns slightly, as if he were headed to first, when he realizes it's a strike. Reset. Now he fouls off a pitch in desperation to stay in the box. Our closer, frazzled temporarily, has semed to regain his composure. And with it, he also has gained the upper hand.

Their eyes are steady on each of their targets. Pitcher to batter. Batter to pitcher. The signal set. He rolls into his windup. The ball seems crisp and direct when it leaves his fingers. The batter's eyes follow the ball sharply till we all hear the gut wrenching sound as the ball hits his mitt. He stays crouched in a position almost eye level with the ball and seems to see passed it. Passed the past, present, and future. Till the umpire stands calmly and directs him to first base.

And cheerily, he jogs to first base with fists pumping. And the Shea faithful rouse from their shackles of uncertainty. And they know. They feel it this night. And with their cries, the short circuited the axons and dendrites of Benitez. And though he received fortune with two outs, he lost his cool and balked not once, but twice. Which meant that young Reyes was afforded two bases he had earned only out of respect and fear of his potential to steal. Not for anything he actually did. Except be patient. He could have presumably spead away at an earlier pitch and stolen a base. Or he could have been called out and lost any chance of the rally that would result. For when he scored, Benitez unraveled further and gave up the game ending home run. Mets win. Mets win.

It makes sense today. The fact that they were on TV was wonderful news for an expatriate in Massachusetts and they won against a formidable opponent and continued to lead in a tough division. Despite missteps, they held it together and came through. The boy at work who shares my birthday said that since our birthday is the same (12/29) every 29th is like a lucky day.

Looking back it was a pretty great day. I actually got good sleep and was slightly productive. I felt proud of myself all day. I think the best word for it was spry. But I felt alert and good. Maybe it was the yogurt smoothie or Banana's excellent India.Arie selection in the ride to work. But I said a prayer as I went to pick up one of the kids and I guess God handled the rest. Explosive situations were kept to a minimum and the boys were good. Compassion and humor abounded for everyone and it felt just lovely.

Man I love the Mets.

I love my life.