| 06 October 2010
These past few weeks have probably been pretty tough for baseball fans. Truthfully, I wouldn’t know. I really haven’t been around.It’s not that I don’t love baseball, because I do. I grew up around it, and in one of those houses where there was always a game on in the background. To this day, whenever we have family get togethers, the sport always dominates our dinner conversation. My uncle is even one of those old-school fans who arranges his entire day around whether the Yankees are playing in the afternoon or at night. Baseball really was my first love as a sports fan.
But just like the rest of America, I’ve been swept up in football fever since the middle of August (For the record, football fever is kind of like Bieber-fever. Only with fewer bad haircuts). I spent the end of the summer and early fall breaking down the teams, getting to know the new names and longing to hear Al Michaels voice, the way a Weight Watchers participant counts down the days until he or she can eat a cheeseburger again. Not only has been baseball not been on my mind for awhile now, it hasn’t even been on my radar. And that’s kind of a big deal, since you know, I write about sports for a living!
But now, just one day and a few games into the playoffs, I’m back. And it’s because of Roy Halladay.
For those who missed Wednesday's game, Halladay wasn’t just good, or even great for that matter. He was historical. Halladay became just the second guy to throw ever throw a postseason no-hitter, the last coming in 1956. He just so happened to do it against the best hitting team in the National League.
But really, it wasn’t just that Halladay threw a no-hitter, but how he did it.
Because truthfully, any baseball fan knows that no-hitters are a lot like the women’s department at Macy’s, one size doesn’t fit all. There are pretty no-hitters and ugly ones. No-hitters where a pitcher gives up five walks or hits three batters. No-hitters where the ump bails out the pitcher in third inning, or a defensive play bails him out in the eighth.
Well Halladay’s wasn’t like any of those. His was just sheer and utter domination. A classic, “I’m better than you are and I freakin’ know it. You better come get me, because I’m not giving up an inch,” performance.
The stat-line on Halladay’s no-hitter says it all: 9IP, 8K, 1BB, O hits. Not to mention 79 strikes on 104 pitches. He went to a three ball count on just three hitters Wednesday. But really, who’s counting?
Again though, Halladay’s Wednesday night wasn’t about raw stats, as much as one guy just being better than his peers in every conceivable way possible. His fastball had nasty pop to it. His cutter looked like somebody was backstage controlling it with piano wire. Over the course of the game Halladay basically made the Reds look like a bunch of overmatched Little Leaguer’s. I half expected to see Dusty Baker pat his guys on the back afteward, and hand them all an orange slice and juice box. By about the fifth inning, you could tell that nobody on Cincinnati wanted anything to do with Hallladay.
At the same time, we need to give credit to Philadelphia’s fans for staying invested in the game, even if it was basically over after Halladay’s RBI single in the second (yes the dude had a hit, drove in a run and scored another. He might as well have just coached third base and served beer between innings while he was at it).
The Philly fans were awesome from the start, but seemed to get better with every single pitch. They rose to their feet every time Halladay got two strikes on a batter, and went wild every time he got that third out. They went even crazier a few minutes later, when Halladay would re-emerge from the dugout to do it all again.
Even watching on TV, you could feel the buzz in the air, that from early on the Phillies fans knew they were seeing something special. They didn't even seem care what their own hitters did, because really, any offensive production just kept Halladay off the mound longer. That alone may have been the coolest part of all: Not only did Halladay look like a playoff pitcher on the mound, but it just felt like the playoff baseball as you were watching. If that makes sense.
Back to Halladay though for a second, because really, I can’t praise him enough. I’d even be willing to start a fan club, but I think “Doc’s Patients,” already took care of that for me.
As a Red Sox I’ve got to admit that I watched Halladay quite a bit in his Toronto days. Part of it was the excitement of getting to see him throw a couple times a year, another part anxiety knowing we were in for a brutal game. And of course part of the Roy Halladay experience in Toronto was disappointment; that a guy that good, was playing for a team so bad.
Remember, these were the pre-Jose-Bautista-50-something-home run days. Halladay got no run support, and basically the only time he pitched in front of sellout crowds was on the road.
Despite it all though, you never seemed to hear a complaint from him.
Maybe I just didn’t follow things closely enough, I don’t know. But from everything I saw and read, Halladay stayed classy, even struggling to come to grips when he finally realized he was leaving Toronto. On the way out he could’ve complained. He could’ve said "I told you so." He could’ve even danced on a table like he’d just been pardoned by the Governor (which is probably what I would’ve done). But instead he remained the consummate professional to the end. Despite the fact that Roy Halladay did way more for the Blue Jays than they ever did for him, he never stopped being classy.
Which brings us back to this week. As the playoffs got set to get underway, I asked all my followers on Twitter what were looking most forward to in these playoffs. Some said Bobby Cox’s last run with the Braves. Others mentioned the Giants. Some talked about the Rays or the Yankees. But overwhelmingly, most were excited to see Doc Halladay on baseball’s biggest stage, and I for one, agreed. Needless to say, the guy didn't disappoint.
Big picture though, isn’t Halladay’s Wednesday afternoon what makes sports great? What keeps us coming back for more, through all the bad games, Les Miles mishaps and Braylon Edwards arrests? For stuff like what we saw Wednesday?
That’s why I personally love sports, all of them. You can never stop watching, because you never know when you might see something that’s never happened before, or might never happen again. As I mentioned after Stephen Strasburg’s debut back in June, it’s about “The Moment.” The point where sports become bigger than just about you, I, or even about the guy on the field, and instead become about being able to tell your grandkids, “Yeh, I remember when that happened.”
Think about it. We’ve all seen highlights of Don Larsen’s World Series perfect game, him jumping into Yogi Berra’s arms. But how many of us can say we lived it? That we know where we were, who we were with and what we were doing? Not many, and even those who can probably have memory’s that we don’t entirely trust anyway.
Fortunately, thanks to Halladay, we all now have a memory of our own. Of a time, and a place, and the people we shared Wednesday with. Even if you didn't actually see the game, and were stuck in traffic or on a bad first date, you'll never forget where you were during Roy Halladay's no-hitter on Wednesday. How cool is that?
And that’s why it’s impossible to explain the appeal of sports to someone who just doesn’t get it. Sports are unlike any other entertainment, anywhere. You can’t sit down in front of the TV at 8pm or go down to the theater and pay nine bucks to get it. It happens when it happens. Even if it’s when you least expect it. Like a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of October.
Either way, for the first time all year, I’m back to being a baseball fan. And for many of you I’m sure you feel the same way.
We’re back despite the leaves changing, football consuming our lives, and Al Michaels voice filling our heads.
And it’s thanks to Roy Halladay.
I think I speak for a lot of people when I say, I appreciate your help Doc.
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