The Greatest Game I Never Saw

Sometimes I get so caught up in playoff basketball that I forget some of the other important things in life. Food, sleep, human contact -- baseball.

I had never been a fan of baseball until the Commissioner awarded Arizona its own franchise in the spring of 1995. I never had a reason to watch otherwise for the same reason most non-fans don't watch -- it is a slow and boring game. Still, I was excited at the prospect because the ownership group was headed by Jerry Colangelo, at the time the president and CEO of the Phoenix Suns. I figured that, if he could bring quality basketball to the Valley, then certainly his baseball team would be good enough to get behind. I was going to support my new home team.

Two months after the decision was announced, I moved to Chicago, but not before buying a Bugs Bunny Diamondbacks jersey at Target. I was moving to a legitimate baseball town, and I wanted to represent.

I didn't watch much baseball that summer. I still didn't like the game, and I only wanted to back my own team. One afternoon that October, I was sitting in some ugly chick's dorm room at a small private college north of Milwaukee (long story, don't ask). She was in class, so I was just sitting on her bunk bed watching TV when I happened upon a playoff game -- ALCS Game 6, Mariners versus Indians, I believe.

Randy Johnson was on the mound. I knew who he was because I remember hearing about this 6'9" strikeout machine in Seattle from all the sports highlight shows. I didn't care much about the game itself -- I just wanted to get a heads up on what awaited me in two and a half years. So I sat, and I watched...mesmerized.

I don't remember much about the game itself, other than my first lessons on a Randy Johnson fastball. His fire and intensity jumped at me from the little 19" screen, and I thought to myself that I just might like it after all.

In 1998, I was back in Wisconsin, living there this time (even longer story). I missed opening day, the first pitch by Andy Benes, the first home run by soon-to-be NL Rookie of the Year Travis Lee, the first everything. I moved back to Arizona in July, arriving on a Greyhound bus on a 117 degree afternoon. I moved in with my sister and her husband, and he caught me up on the season, and taught me the basics of the game. We watched every game, and I remember just soaking up everything. I didn't care whether they won or lost...I barely even noticed because I was enthralled by the nuances of the game that I was slowly discovering.

Then it happened. My mom happened upon two tickets, and presented them to me and my brother-in-law. He tried to snake them, saying he was going to go with my sister, despite my protests that the tickets were for both of us. But I "got lucky" because he ended up having to work that day.

July 28, 1995. Arizona Diamondbacks versus Chicago Cubs. Perfect. I sat in the right field bleachers, giddy as a school boy because I never thought I would get to see a game in person (the way I grew up, it was difficult to imagine doing anything that most people take for granted). I ended up taking the 17 year old girl who babysat my nephews because I had no one else to go with. She was cute, but twitchy. Something just wasn't right with her. Must have been the drugs (which I did not do at the time...marijuana is not a drug).

Omar Daal was the starting pitcher, and I liked him a lot because he seemed to be the most effective member of the rotation. He would fan his glove in front of him as he went into his wind up. He had a delayed stretch that emphasized his methodical and deliberate approach. "Throw the damn ball already!"

None of the batters had much success, not even Sammy Sosa who was in the middle of a historic race with Mark McGuire to break Roger Maris' 36 year old single season home run record. My first baseball game ever, and I was sitting fifteen feet behind baseball history. He had a big ass, and he reminded me of a cow in the pasture the way he chewed on a wad of gum with a complete disregard for social manner. We made fun of him loudly, hoping that he would turn around so that we could wave at him. He never did.

Over nine innings, the Diamondbacks scored four runs. A massive pop fly came sailing towards me and landed in the hands of a fan a few seats to my right. I was scared to death. I didn't have a glove, and I had no idea how hard that thing might be coming in. It was indeed exciting.

The same nine innings, and the Cubs failed to score a single run against Omar Daal. Fifteen feet behind Major League history, smack dab in the middle of Diamondbacks history, I had witnessed first hand the first complete game shut out thrown by an Arizona pitcher. I hadn't missed the first everything, after all. I guess I really did get lucky.

From that day forward, I was completely hooked. I only manage to get to one game a year, but it's always special to me. Every game I have attended has been a Diamondbacks win. I watch as many as I can on TV, though, unless the Suns are on a playoff run (more on that later). Still, I've lived and died with my baseball team. Win or lose, I did not care.

When Randy Johnson was traded to Houston in 1998, I remember wishing so badly that he would come to Arizona instead. Imagine my excitement when he announced that he had narrowed his choices in the off season to one of the expansion teams. It was baseball nirvana when he signed with us, and my hopes were realized as he won 4 consecutive Cy Young awards with the team. He took us to the playoffs his first year, and although the Mets took us out in the NLDS, I knew that this was going to be a special team.

The following year, they traded Travis Lee for Curt Schilling, and I felt betrayed. The first Diamondback...traded to the Phillies...for an injured pitcher. We missed the playoffs in 2000, and I was sorely disappointed. But we bounced back in 2001 in a BIG way. It was the year that Mystique and Aura were just dancers at a nightclub.

Luis Gonzalez had a career year, belting 35 home runs before the All Star break, where he won the annual Home Run Derby and won a house for some lucky schmo. Mark Grace, the fabled Cubs first baseman who had more hits in the 1990s than any player in the majors, signed on. Reggie Sanders signed as a free agent. Matt Williams and Jay Bell led the team.

The season was delayed a week after the September 11 attacks on the World Trade Center in New York. It was this event that prompted the media to pronounce that the Yankees had a "mystique" and "aura" about them...it was their destiny to win this one for the city of New York to help the healing.

The D-Backs took the first two games of the World Series at BOB. Brian Anderson gave a valiant effort in game three at Yankee Stadium, but he was going against a future Hall of Famer and active career strikeout leader in Roger Clemens. MAN that game was close! The pitching in that series was unbelievable. Randy Johnson. Curt Schilling. Andy Pettitte. Mike Mussina. Mariano Rivera. And...Byung-Hyun Kim?!

The 22 year old Korean rookie reliever sure made things interesting in games 4 and 5 (the first ever World Series game played in November when the clock struck midnight in the final inning) as he gave up a game winning home run, then a game tying home run on consecutive games. Brenly was fried in the papers for that one. That was so heartbreaking to see him crouch on the mound in tears as Mark Grace came up to comfort and encourage him. The poor kid was under the brightest of spotlights in the world of Major League Baseball, and he cost the Diamondbacks two games in a row. Games the team should have won. But not to fear, as the Series went back to Arizona for games 6 and 7, into the powerful arms of the duel aces of the Arizona staff.

The D-Backs hammered the Yankees in game 6 behind Randy Johnson, who allowed a measly 2 runs to the Diamondbacks 15. It was a shellacking the likes of which had never been seen, and it was done by the upstart team over the most historic franchise in the game.

Curt Schilling took the mound for game 7 against Roger Clemens. It was a masterpiece of pitching, as the Diamondbacks took a 1-0 lead in the bottom of the 6th, then lost it as the Yankees scored a run each in the 7th and 8th. I was on the edge of my seat the entire game. Here we were, desert dwelling nobodies challenging the storied city sophisticates for the title of world champion.

But there was something special in the air that November night. A small wind blew onto the field through the open roof during the 6th inning. Infield dirt scattered, and some papers rose gently into the air. A few light drops of rain fell onto the field, and the commentators wondered if the rain would begin to fall harder, delaying the game. Curt Schilling paused in the moment, gathering himself as the Yankees threatened to tear the game apart. He escaped the inning with the game tied at 1.

It was a scene out of an Academy Award winning film, and it sent chills through me to the point that I could feel the electricity in the air. A storm was brewing.

Bottom of the 9th, down 2-1, and Mariano Rivera, the greatest closer in postseason history is on the mound. He had never blown a save opportunity when it counted, and the Yankees and their fans were rightfully confident that this one was in the books. The Diamondbacks had other plans. The winds were still blowing, only the air on the field was eerily - prophetically - calm.

The newly acquired Cubby, Mark Grace singled to start things off. David Delucci was the pinch runner taking over for him on the base paths. He moved to second when Damian Miller's offering went right back to the mound, and none other than Rivera himself booted the throw to cut off the lead runner. Delucci was thrown out at third when Jay Bell's bunt went too far, and Rivera was able to handle the throw.

Then came Tony Womack, the undersized short stop who hit a game winning grand slam on Father's Day in honor of his own father who died earlier that year. I sat there on the edge of my chair, glued to the TV and shaking like a leaf in a cold breeze. Double down the right field line, and Miller scored the tying run as Jay Bell moved to third. The Greatest Closer suddenly became human again, as his pitch hit Craig Counsell, the man who scored the winning run in the Florida Marlins' game 7 victory over the Cleveland Indians four years earlier. The bases are loaded, and suddenly Aura and Mystique are no longer dancers in a nightclub. They are, in fact, surrounding the entire state of Arizona as the All Star home run champion took the batter's box.

Luis Gonzalez hit a career high 57 home runs in 2001. The Diamondbacks traded Karim Garcia and a sack of hot roasted peanuts for the lefty left fielder during the 1999 season, and he had quickly become a fan favorite. This at bat would make him a legend in his own time. The set up was perfect.

Bottom of the 9th. One out. Bases loaded. Tie ball game. Arizona versus New York. Desert versus City. New versus old. Future versus history. David versus Goliath. Gonzalez versus Rivera.

After Gracie was replaced by Delucci, he walked into the dugout and informed the players that they should choke up and pray for contact against the Yankee closer. It was their best bet because he threw a hard biting split finger fastball that dove in hard on left handed hitters. It was a bat breaker of a pitch, and the bread and butter of Rivera's arsenal.

The Yankee infielders moved in to protect the plate from a Jay Bell score on a squeeze bunt. It proved to be an even bigger mistake than any pitch BK Kim threw in games 4 and 5.

Gonzo choked up for the 0-1 pitch. The fans were praying for a home run to wrap up this story book game and package it for Hollywood. What they got was a soft single that sailed gently over the heads of the Yankees who were protecting the infield grass. Luis skipped high in the air on his way to first as the ball landed harmlessly in the outfield grass, his fist clenched in the air, "YEAH! YEAH!" Jay Bell had to hold onto his batting helmet in disbelief as he crossed home plate and jumped into the arms of an ecstatic Matt Williams, the former Cleveland Indian and first player taken by the Diamondbacks in the expansion draft after the 1997 season.

"DIAMONDBACKS WIN! THEY ARE WORLD CHAMPIONS!"

The entire state of Arizona jumped out of their seats in collective exuberance. We laughed and cried at the same time -- we had blown up the Death Star, overthrown Stalin, unseated the Evil Empire.

It was the most amazing display I had ever seen in professional sports, and I fell in love.

The Diamondbacks have undergone many changes since that fateful November night in 2001. All the players are gone (although Randy Johnson has returned to finish his career with the franchise that elevated him more than any other). We have a new Cy Young winner in the young Brandon Webb (my favorite player after Randy Johnson). The kid has a wicked sinker that, by all accounts, feels like a bowling ball hitting the bat. The movement on his pitches is breathtaking, a beautiful contrast to the hard throwing RJ.

Brandon Webb pitched last night against the San Diego Padres' own young ace, Jake Peavy. Peavy has become a Diamondback killer in his short career, but I love watching him work just the same. It's my favorite thing about baseball -- the defense. It is fluid and poetic, a stark contrast to the bullish thuggery that passes as defense in the NBA.

And the boys pitched a gem last night. Both pitchers got a no decision. Peavy left in the 7th with a 2-0 lead, and Webb left in the 8th with a 2-1 deficit. Another future Hall of Famer and career saves leader, Trevor Hoffman, took the mound in the bottom of the ninth. Chad Tracy (my favorite position player) walked with one out. Eric Byrnes popped out. Then the rookie phenom, Stephen Drew, the player 9 teams passed on because they were afraid of his agent, took to the plate.

Rookie against legend all over again, and a 3-1 change up rocketed into the right field bleachers, right where I sat for my very first game. Diamondbacks win, 3-2. I can't believe I missed that for playoff basketball, and the Suns weren't even playing.