Tuesday, October 15, 2002


I don't think that Carl Lewis could have outrun Barry Bonds last night, when Bonds led the charge from the dugout onto the field last night after his San Francisco Giants scored the winning run in the bottom of the ninth to win the National League pennant. It's wonderful moments like that -- watching Bonds finally go to the World Series -- that challenge my cynicism toward Major League Baseball. For one moment last night I was able to forget my fear that baseball will say, "See, this season proves that the small-market teams are able to compete just fine," and that a team that was almost eliminated altogether nearly won the American League pennant, and that baseball's economics have reached a point that one of the richest teams, the Atlanta Braves, could be on the verge of a small fire-sale. For one moment there was only the game's best player, a player who is surely one of the greatest to ever play the game, basking in the joy of attaining a goal that has eluded him through his entire career. Baseball is a game of moments, and this one was wonderful. I only hope that baseball heeds one of the many bits of wisdom from the classic film Bull Durham:

Nuke: Why can't you just let me enjoy the moment?
Crash: The moment's over.

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