Second Chance at Bat, page 33
For those of you just waking up from a coma, this season has been one for the ages. Ending April in last place with a bloated payroll and a depleted farm system, it got uglier when the ace of the team went down with a season ending surgery and even more ugly when your next best pitcher would spend at least fifteen weeks on the DL with a broken arm suffered during a charity event. Gotta tell you, die-hard fans began planning weekend projects, much to the shocked chagrin of the missus; vacations down the Jersey Shore or up in the Poconos were hastily booked rather than face all of the remaining games this season. There would be no joy in Mudville or Conshohocken for that matter.
Then out of nowhere, a regular guy comes along and turns the baseball world on its ear. We are captivated by the single most devastating pitching performance in a short season ever and by the gentleman performing the miracle. No, he doesn't walk on water, even the Schulykill, and no he didn't do it alone. I said this before and it bears repeating again that never in Forty years of reporting on baseball have I witnessed more inspired and enthusiastic play at the professional level. As much as you'd like to see it, he can't pitch every day. Chris Short and Jim Bunning taught our grandparents that lesson about a half a century ago and no Philadelphian has ever forgotten it. Ever.
So the three heroes of the hill this first full week of fall are Joe DiNatale, a thirty-nine year old insurance agent who never played professional ball before early May, Blake "Hot Shot" Hunter, a rookie flamethrower whose last must-win game occurred before reaching puberty and Artie Culp who fell off a stage in May, badly breaking his pitching arm. Call me crazy, but I can't think of any other trio I'd have out there this week and neither can you, because you want to root for each one of them, each for a different reason. The Cinderella Man, the Boy Wonder and the Comeback Kid, because they all are great stories.
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So, get ready, buckle up and hold onto your hats for what promises to be a wild ride to the finish line.
WILD CARD MANIA
Its a funny game. Just when you think you have it figured out, that's when it surprises you. Doc mused as he stood stoically on the dugout's top step. Things were looking pretty bleak.
Trying to keep it in perspective. Doc went through it in his mind again and came to a same conclusion. Monday night, Joe wins his 29th here in the first of three games against the Nationals. He has a chance to win thirty and all this in a short season. Last May, we were hoping for the guy to buy us two months just to get us to the All-Star game. If he's only a twenty game winner this season, we'd be out of contention.
Doing the math was easy. The Mets beat the Braves at Turner field that night to keep pace. The next night, Hot Shot who wasn't even in the starting rotation for Double-A at the start of the season, goes eight strong, but Doc had to take him out for a pinch hitter. The kid was pitching a shut out. Only problem was, so was the other guy. The Phils stranded 7 runners in scoring position in as many innings. The hottest pinch-hitter since the All-Star break hit the first pitch into an inning-ending double play and left yet another runner at third. The rookie had every right to be upset, he just sat with a towel and a drink between Joe and Clay. Doc summoned the left-handed situation specialist from the pen to start the ninth and he gave up back to back solo shots to lefties for the first and second left-handed home runs he served up all season. The home team only got one back in the bottom half of the Ninth stranding two more and lost a heartbreaker 2-1.
To add insult to injury, the Mets beat the Braves, who must have felt like they're wearing undersized turtlenecks under their jerseys. This puts the Mets one game back with 4 to play and the Mets lead the Phillies by a game in the wildcard.
Now tonight Doc glances at the scoreboard while the Nat's set up man gives way to their closer in the bottom of the ninth. What are they worried about? They have a four run lead having pummeled Artie Culp for five runs in the first inning and chased him with two more in the seventh. Artie was due for a bad game after matching Joe win for win through September and doing it on short rest.
Doc Barnes sees that the Mets are beating Atlanta by the same score and they are in the bottom of the ninth at Turner Field. If things stand up, we go two games back of both of them who then would be tied for first place with three to play. We'd have to sweep in New York to control our own destiny.
There is two on with one out. The Nationals have had a disappointing season, after doing well in recent years. Their closer hasn't had much chance for saves this year and this doesn't even qualify. Gonzalez then hits the second pitch for a bad hop double down the line. Good hop and its at least one out maybe a game-ending double-play. The closer is not rattled, but he now has to walk Covington to set up the force play with Ellis Long on deck. I guess that's one way to get a save situation. The pitcher lollipops four straight balls for the pass and now Ellis is the winning run at the plate. While he is taking his practice swings and setting up in the box, Doc checks out the scoreboard and see that the Braves have put a a couple on the board too and still have a pulse. Now Ellis is ready. Why Oscar hasn't offered to renew his contract is still a mystery to me. All the guy has down is put together MVP numbers, lead by example and is one of the classiest guys in the league. Its no secret that Joe ignited this team, but this man up to bat has done everything but take out the trash this season. The veteran closer is gonna stay out of Long's wheelhouse. He's gonna throw junk and nibble the corners. What's this? He challenged Ellis with a high fastball. The gun can't be right. That pitch was 95 m.p.h.? Wow. He must be pumped. Why is the second baseman so concerned of what Gonzalez is doing on second? We aren't relaying signs. The next pitch is a curve that is outside. What? Strike two. I don't have to say a thing as 47,000 people are giving Blue an earful. We are one pitch away from really rough sledding.
Doc's has seen the next pitch on replay a hundred times before. Mitch Williams threw it to Joe Carter back in '93 This one is just as nasty. It was a great pitch then and it is a great pitch now. Ellis takes it off his shoe tops for a moon shot to the deepest park of the park. Good hitters do hit good pitches. It happens. As the ball is rising so is Doc's heart rate. He is jumping up and down. It has a chance. It has a chance. It drops behind the fence and the center fielder slumps like he's been shot. As Ellis is rounding second on his way to touching them all, the stadium is in bedlam. Doc looks up on the scoreboard and what does he see but a final in Atlanta. What? I can't believe it! Same score. What are the chances of that? Two teams in the same division on the same night, coming back from identical scores to win in walk-offs.
Now he's pounding people on the back and they are pounding him. 159 games so far, a season that started with pitchers and catchers reporting in mid-february and in just a blink of an eye, the baseball gods rain pennies from heaven. "We live to fight another day! This game will get you every time you think you've figured it out." Doc said aloud to nobody-anybody as they made their way into the clubhouse.
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xxxxx
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No-seamers tonight and only no-seamers. Joe stared in and nodded like he was getting a different sign each time. Pitch-outs were rare. Joe was following the game plan by throwing strikes and keeping the pitch count down, just like when he first came on the scene. The plan was working. Win tonight, win tomorrow, use Hot Shot in the last game and have Artie pitch the Wild Card one-game playoff on Tuesday in LA. But just in case, Joe would be available for the last game on Sunday on very short rest, hence no heaters or hooks tonight.
Atlanta had already won in a rare late afternoon start in Miami and secured at least a tie for NL East supercharged by their come-from-behind win the other night against these same Mets. The final was posted in the fourth inning. This was exactly what Major League Baseball wanted when it created the two wild cards spots for each league. It kept fan interest high for the teams in contention. They got to sell more tickets and rake in higher TV revenues. More drama meant more money. Speaking of the almighty greenback, the Mayor had negotiated some incentive clauses into Joe's contract back in May when the last place Phillies had little thought of the post season with Joe being on that roster. Joe was not counting his eggs before they hatched. He knew that just from innings and starts that he was going to be a wealthy man. He had a vague memory of an extra bump if he won 30 games, which he was close to doing tonight. Twenty was the new thirty as the pinnacle of pitching excellence what with pitch counts, only pitching every fifth day and with the development of middle relievers. He had to pinch himself occasionally as the numbers even shocked him.
As always, Joe said he could wait until the dust settled after the season to count his rupees. As the fan-a-vision panned the crowd and encouraged couple to do there best lip-lock on the jumbo screen. Joe always recalled what that was like with Linda and wondered what it could be like with Janice, especially as he watched the camera pan signs of affection on this gigantic high-def screen in her neighborhood. He didn't dwell on the fact that papers were already drawn up for Linda and he was just waiting for the right time. Joey and he had been in close contact since the funeral and he would be sure to have a long talk with him before dropping the bomb. Right now, he just wanted to concentrate on the task at hand. Twice he had gotten injured in this stadium, both times involving Hank "Bruiser" Lee. The last time Joe lost two starts but gained a no-hitter. They went 1-1 in those games. Would he have traded the no-hitter for an extra win? How would that have changed the match-ups going into this final series? He recovered nicely from that injury but it could have ended his season and the Phillies chances in a scant 72 hours. Did he need to catch that ball to preserve the win? Not really. Did he reach out with his bare hand to preserve the no-hitter? Probably. He and Clay talked about it at length after the funeral and Clay let Joe off the hook saying that it was a bone-headed rookie mistake. Both men knew that wasn't the case. Clay also shared in the no-hitter. Just because Joe threw it, didn't mean that Clay didn't call it or catch it. This whole season was an extra trip around the Monopoly board for Clay and he knew that it was because of his friend and battery-mate. His name was going in the record books too.
By the sixth inning, the Mets had stopped waiting for Joe to throw the hard stuff and but by then it was too late. The Phillies had chased their starter by batting around in the fourth and the Mets middle relievers were getting knocked around pretty good too. There would be some tired arms and that could only help the Phillies in the next two games.
Doc didn't have to lift Joe for a pinch-hitter in the top of the seventh, but he did and Joe's night was done after scattering six hits giving up only a run. They were nine outs from Joe being the pitcher of record if the Mets didn't score 6 runs in the next three innings. He was about to become a thirty-game winner, but after the Wednesday night ninth inning heroics, nobody was popping the Champagne corks just yet.
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Vic said it first. "I think they are still shell-shocked from the other night."
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Harmon chimed in while keeping an eye on the late-season call up throwing erratic, but sometimes effective fastballs and sliders. "I think they feel snake bit by you D. You have had a lot to do with their season not going as planned."
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Roy Hoak made his point about his favorite Met. "Its just not in Lee's nature to hit your knuckleball, I think he wishes he never ran into you."
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Everybody in earshot laughed at that one. As each out was recorded, and the hill became steeper and steeper for the Met's hitter to climb, the excitement of winning and being part of Joe's milestone took over the dugout.
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"Gonna paint the town red tonight D?" Ellis boomed from his perch with one out to go.
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Joe just shook his head as the long fly ball nestled into the Cater's two-handed catch to end the ballgame.
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He hoped to have other plans later that evening.
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xxxxx
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Would she come? Was he an idiot for thinking that he had a chance? Did she have to work and couldn't get out of her shift on short notice? I should have never done this. What was I thinking? This is stup-
* * *
"A penny for your thoughts."
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He looked up to see her face. It was radiant. She gently placed the penny she was holding into his left hand and she closed hers over his. She edged her chair so that their knees were almost touching.
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Before he could form a sentence. "It finally dawned on me that you travelled to New York all those weeks ago to tell me your story. I am so sorry I dampened your plans."
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Earlier in the day, he had visited the hotel coffee shoppe with two of the most sought after tickets in the city. He introduced himself and asked if the manager would be kind enough to relay a message to Janice Detweiler, the former 3-11 weekend server that was now in her nursing practicum. The manager was most obliging and Joe scribbled the word 'Cheesecake' on a napkin followed by a question mark. "She'll understand this?" he asked.
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Joe had nodded then and was smiling now. It worked. They were at Juniors and her favorite slice had been on the table next to his untouched piece, since his arrival just before midnight. She looked even more delicious.
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"You look great." She said.
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"You look fantastic." He replied. This was adult speak for 'Ladies and Gentleman, start your engines'.
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And off they went. Two people that had so much to talk about with so much more that they wanted to say. Her school, his pitching, her failed attempt at dating, his impending divorce, their feelings for each other, their kids and on it went like a marathon volley at the US Open. From the restaurant into the cab to her Mother's house, to the kitchen table for coffee, then to the diner for breakfast, then back to the house to meet Mom and Mandy. Joe was happy tired and Janice looked the same.
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They finally came up for air from an all-nighter that didn't include sex. It was ten times more satisfying than the last sex he had. Joe recalled a similar time many years ago as they both began to wind down.
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"I've gotta work tonight." She said
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"Yeah, me too." He chuckled.
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"I am off Sunday." She said
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"Do you think your Mom and Mandy would like to go to the ball game?"
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" Uh- huh. Can I come to?"
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"Only if you promise not to throw a beer at me."
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"I promise."
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It was a date. Then came the kiss. If anybody was watching, they would have politely told Joe and Janice to go get a room.
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Clay was accustomed to Joe coming back to the room in the morning from his run, but this time it was a bit different. Clay, the master detective, keenly observed that Joe's bed hadn't be slept in and his favorite pitcher was wearing the same clothes as he wore during the post-game press conference the previous evening.
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"Nice night, pardner?"
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"Yep." Joe didn't kiss and tell. He slipped into the bathroom to take a shower. So this is what a thirty-game winner feels like.
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xxxxx
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"You've been in tougher spots than this Thomas."
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"I believe you have firsthand knowledge and a good memory, Stewart."
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These old friends had been to the gates of Hell and back and used full given names during times like these. Both knew that they made their livings watching how men play a child's game. What they shared years ago was known only to a handful of former Marines and that group was getting smaller every year.
The game had ended an hour earlier and both were exhausted when they did their parts in the post-game interviews. Stew's column had already been sent in. His employer extended the going to press deadline, waiting for the news of the marathon extra-inning loss that had to be reported on. Breaking news of a deadly disease outbreak in Africa or the military coup in a former Eastern-bloc country could wait until Monday. The morning sun would be rising over Queens in a couple of hours, but the readership of the Daily Sun had to have the outcome of this crucial game in their Sunday morning paper along with their comics and coupons.
They sat like this sometimes when the players, other coaches and reporters vacated the premises. Everybody had rushed back to the hotel this morning wanting to catch some precious Z's before having to return for the afternoon finale. Often, Doc Barnes with a luke warm beer and Stew Menke with a warmed-over coffee and cigarette, compared notes on the odd things. It was those things "that you don't see everyday" that delighted these crusty old-timers of the game. Then they would reminisce of games of yesteryear where something like that had happened before or times when a long-time forgotten game was reprised because of a similar incident.
