OH. MY. GOD.
Today I saw the longest baseball game in postseason history. And my team won. It was one of the best games I’ve ever seen.
I had a feeling, as we drove to the ballpark shortly after 10:00 this morning. I had a feeling that the Astros would win. I don’t know why, and I can’t explain it. But I was confident. They were going to win. It was all part of my plan — split in Atlanta, sweep at home, Astros win the series 3-1.
By the third inning, after Brandon Backe had given up a grand slam to Adam LaRoche and the Braves led 4-0 and Tim Hudson was groovin’ on the mound, I began to worry. I still felt like they were supposed to win, but it wasn’t looking good. Soon it was 5-0. Then 5-1. Then 6-1.
By the bottom of the 8th, the stadium was rumbling. We were trying to stay positive, but we were worried. Things didn’t look good. I couldn’t stop clapping the free noisemaker they were giving away. Who gives a noisemaker to 43,000 nervous baseball fans?? I’m sure everyone around me wanted to break the thing into bits.
The Astros got things started and then — Lance Berkman! Grand slam! I screamed and screamed. We saw two grand slams in one game, and this one was for the home team. 6-5! We’re only down by one run! It was a game again!
To the bottom of the 9th inning we go. One out. Two outs. I am wringing my hands, clapping the noisemaker like mad, as Brad Ausmus comes to the plate. He hits a long ball, and I see Andruw Jones chasing, but I can’t tell where it hits the wall! It is above the line? Below the line? Aaaaaaaaaack, what’s happening?!? I hold my breath. I look at Jason, who points at the umpire who is wiggling his finger in a circle in the air.
HOME RUN!!! The game is tied! I’m not even cheering anymore, no “woo” or “yay” or polite and restrained clapping. I’m just there, outright screaming bloody murder, it’s absolute bedlam in the stadium and I’m jumping up and down so crazily that I’m sure at any moment I’m going to fall into the row in front of me. My throat hurts, but we’re in extra innings, free baseball!
To the 10th. The 11th. The 12th. The 13th. The Braves have quite a few chances to score, making me even more nervous, but our bullpen keeps shutting them down. Brad Lidge escapes a jam. Dan Wheeler pitches beautifully. The game goes on, the scoreboard lighting up with zeros, as the Astros go through every available bench player, and every available bullpen pitcher.
The 14th. The 15th. Brad Ausmus moves to first base. Can he even play first base?!? Then they switch — Raul Chavez to first base, and Ausmus back to catcher. This is crazy, people! This game is officially insane!
We take a peek at the bullpen, where, are you kidding me?? Roger Clemens is warming up. Clemens, who pitched Game 2, and whose day it is to throw between starts, is warming up in the bullpen. In the 16th inning, he comes into the game. Roger freaking Clemens is pitching in the 16th inning of Game 4 of the NLDS. We have no more pitchers. Oswalt pitched yesterday. Pettitte has to be saved in case we play tomorrow. There is no one left. The Astros order is so out-of-whack that we figure the only possible way for them to win is with a home run. The lineup is too screwy to play small ball. Someone has to launch it.
The 16th inning passes. And the 17th. We are in the bottom 18th inning. The game has been going for almost 6 hours, a new record for postseason baseball both in game length and number of players used. We are tired, we are spent, we have cheered for the duration of two baseball games and it’s surprisingly draining.
We just want someone to win. We want someone to win it for the Astros. We don’t want to see the team have to go to Atlanta tomorrow, and play a crucial Game 5 after exhausting everyone today. It is the 18th inning, and we wonder how much longer it can last.
Clemens bats first, and takes a mighty hack at the ball. He’s trying, but soon he’s out. The stadium sighs. We clap. And sigh.
Chris Burke is next. We watch, a little detatched. I am tired of standing up and sitting down. My hands hurt from clapping the noisemaker. My feet are sticky from the coke that someone spilled. My throat is raw from yelling. Please, Chris Burke, please.
He hits it. The ball flies as if it’s in slow motion. It rises slowly, as it heads toward left field and the infamous Crawford Boxes. Home run territory. I swear you could feel the stadium collectively suck in air. For an instant, I swear you could hear a pin drop. The ball floats. I can’t tell yet. Is it gone? Is it in the seats? Is this it??
The ball lands in the second row of seats and the stadium explodes with noise. Chris Burke has just hit a HOME RUN in the bottom of the 18th inning. The game is over. The Astros win the game, and the series, and are headed to the NLCS. As Burke is mobbed by his teammates and confetti starts to fill the air, we are all in the stands screaming. Just screaming.
The 6-hour marathon is over. Astros win!!
Gavin says
Woohoo! I got to see an airshow _and_ watch the last 3 innings of a great game. Loved your telling of being there.
Brian says
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
ShoreTurtle says
What a great game! That’s awesome that you got to see it in person! My wife is rooting for a Yankees–Astros World Series. She misses Andy and Roger.
carter says
Only you could make me feel excited about the most depressing game I can remember in years. I totally know what it’s like to scream (not cheer) in utter bedlam when something impossible (miraculous) happens. Darn you hated “wild card”, darn you. I hold Bud Selig personally responsible for this.
Me says
Carter —