Anticipation

One of my favorite things about baseball is that you can savor moments, at least more so than in many sports. In hockey, and I do like hockey, goals seem to come up suddenly, indeed almost unexpectedly. Blink and you miss. But baseball? The moments allow a certain enjoyment because they tend to build.

Take the Columbus Clippers game which the Ohio Cosgriffs and I were at last Saturday. The home team won, but it was a slog. They weren't hitting very well, and then the second baseman couldn't complete a double play in the top of the seventh inning, which allowed the lead run to score for the visiting Omaha squad. As that night's match could only be seven innings by rule (it didn't start until after 9 PM because of a rain delay, and in the minor leagues any game beginning that late is seven rather than the typical nine innings) that run loomed large. 

Columbus, then, was down 2-1 as they came up for their last at bats. When the first hitter struck out, it looked bad for the Mudville Nine. But the second batter drew a walk, and a pinch runner who was presumably fleet footed was sent to replace him at first base. A bit of hope was felt by the crowd.

Batter three swung mightily at the first pitch he saw yet missed for a strike. But on the next pitch he connected for a moon shot, a huge, arching fly ball which caused the crowd to jump to its collective feet. The ball sure appeared to be a home run off the bat. Yet you must wait and see. You get to anticipate that happiness which you know approaches.

The ball sank around ten rows beyond the left field wall. Cheers erupted. Columbus wins 3-2 on what is known as a walk off homer, because technically the batter doesn't have to jog around the bases, the contest being decided.

He did, of course, and the patrons could revel in that, their patient fandom rewarded with the late victory. 

Sure, walk-offs as such can happen in other sports. But they aren't as magical as in baseball.