Each Saturday during the ongoing apocalypse, I’ll revisit an older column that ran on this site, accompanied by a handful of current observations about it at the bottom.
This one ran Sept. 14, 2014:
The instant the ball made impact with Matt Szczur's bat and seared toward third base, with fellow Cubs already at first and second, the entirety of the Pirates' infield experienced individual flashes. You know, the kind only baseball players can fully appreciate. These guys wait, they weigh the whole scene and most everything that can happen, they wait some more, and, just like that, they're expected to be nothing less than perfect.
Well, this one played out in in perfect harmony, as it turned out.
Let's start with Russell Martin's view behind the plate, if only because it's a grounded foundation: "All I'm thinking, honestly, is let's get out of this inning."
OK, nothing too sophisticated there, but then, that's by far the most pragmatic view and so very Martin. To that point in the top of the fourth, Chicago's severely depleted lineup had stacked up a three-run lead and was set for more. And hey, there are losses that sting, there are losses that devastate, and then there are losses to an opponent with five starters batting .214 or lower. In a pennant race. With one of your best, Edinson Volquez, on the mound.
So yeah, pragmatic would have worked fine in the moment.
It's just that the moment would morph into magic.
Rather than hearing me ruminate on all the ramifications of the Pirates' 7-3 overtaking of the Cubs on this spectacular Sunday afternoon at PNC Park, and how they held ground on the Brewers with a 1 1/2-game lead for the final National League wild card, I'll ask that you listen to the clubhouse on how that moment, that magic might symbolize so much of what's taken place this summer.
Back to the ball off the bat ...
Neil Walker at second: "Let's get two."
Andrew Lambo at first: "Let's get two."
Volquez: "Let's get two."
Nothing wrong with any of that, of course. Every one of those men would attest that they'd never previously participated in a triple play. It isn't something that gets practice. There's no way to prepare. Thus, no reason to have it cross the mind.
But just about everything that there is to love about the 2014 Pirates has begun with Josh Harrison, so why would this be any different?
The ball came his way and, so conveniently, on his way to third.
"What I'm thinking right away is that there's one fast guy in this whole equation," Harrison said. "And that's the guy at the plate."
True. Chris Valaika, the man on second, and Mike Olt, on first, are both below-average runners. But Szczur was a two-sport star at Villanova and made it to the majors because of his defense and outfield speed.
Just in case anyone thought the Pirates weren't taking this group of Cubs seriously.
"You've got to do your homework," Harrison continued. "I know that guy can fly."
Which also means, of course, that Harrison wasn't thinking about getting two.
"We had a chance, man. I thought we had a chance."
As a direct result, Harrison didn't just step on the bag and turn and throw. He desperately whirled in the air, as if he were still a second baseman performing a flying pivot.
The throw was a strike to Walker.
"You just want everything to be clean now," Walker said.
Then on to Lambo.
"Oh, man, all I'm thinking there is 'Catch the ball. Just catch the ball.' " Lambo said.
Here's the whole thing:
And once it was done, Lambo motioned with the glove to the rest of the infield, but otherwise there was no celebration, at least not beyond the 37,655 leaping and high-fiving all around the packed stadium. Instead, there was a full-on sprint to the dugout, as if all concerned were eager to transform it into something more meaningful.
Harrison didn't get that right away, but he sure did within a few seconds.
"I came in there, all cool and stuff, just set my glove down and had some guys come to me and congratulate and all," he said. "But that's when I kind of went, whoa, man, this has got to be a W for us. It's just got to."
So there Harrison went, up and down the railing, to each individual, exhorting each with the same message.
"He's like, 'We're going to win this! Right here! Let's go!' " was how Lambo remembered it.
"That's J-Hay," Martin said. "All up in our faces, too. He made sure it would count."
[caption id="attachment_995054" align="aligncenter" width="640"]
Neil Walker reacts after his relay completes the triple play. - GETTY[/caption]
You saw the rest: Walker homered in the bottom half and, as Clint Hurdle put it, "made it carry over for us right away." And in the fifth, it was Harrison -- of course -- lashing a two-run double to tie at 3-3 -- followed by equally big hits from Travis Snider, Andrew McCutchen, Walker, Gaby Sanchez and Gregory Polanco that made it 7-3.
"We continue to remind ourselves that feelings aren't facts," Hurdle said in remarking as much about the Pirates' 8-2 tear right on the heels of that seemingly crushing sweep in St. Louis. "No matter what happens, our guys go back out there and play. These guys love to play. There's never anything they don't think they can do. And today, that's about as rough a start as we've had in a while."
He paused.
"If you listen to the fan base, it's like, 'Are we in a playoff race?' Well, yeah, we are. What do you do when you dig a hole? You find a way to claw out. This is a group that has a lot of belief in each other."
I don't know about you, but I'm done doubting it.
Triple plays are rare enough, this being the Pirates' first in five years. But a true around-the-horn triple play is pure gold: Their last one came way back in 1979, going Bill Madlock to Phil Garner to Willie Stargell. And the last one before that came in 1971, Richie Hebner to Dave Cash to Bob Robertson.
I don't need to remind any longtime fan what happened those two years.
The Pirates are down to 13 games, and their next opponent is a Red Sox team that's 18 games under .500 and looking ahead to 2015. At the same time, the Brewers will visit St. Louis. And with the Braves fading badly, that basically means we'll probably know very soon which of the Pirates or Brewers makes it, given Milwaukee coming to town next weekend.
Again, I'd done doubt it. Roll your eyes at talk of intangibles, if that isn't your thing. But it doesn't matter what we believe, only what they believe.
Let's revisit Martin:
Volquez stopped by Harrison's stall, as we finished talking, to offer a fist-bump.
"Thank you, my brother."
Moments later, Starling Marte stopped by Lambo's stall to do likewise, with Marte saying something as he then thumped his own chest once.
"It's on us right now. It's on us."
Where else would you want it?
____________________
As promised, a few remarks:
• Yeah, I know. Packed house. Players who could play. A potent good team headed toward yet another playoff, pretty much shrugging off the Cubs.
Believe me, I know.
• But you know what I miss more than that right now?
Being able to work a clubhouse the way I did that Sunday afternoon. It's what I've done all my life, and I enjoyed it after that game more than most. Because there's nothing more fun than breaking down a play -- any sport -- that involves moving, multiple yet coordinated parts as this one did.
I'll make a mental checklist of everyone I'd like to ask about a given sequence, then stubbornly stick it out in that room until it's complete.
In this case, I was genuinely surprised by the first couple players, Walker notably, who professed to thinking first and foremost about turning two. Prepared as they are for every situation, a triple play's still so rare -- even the most common 5-4-3 variety like this one -- that the brain still clicked to the most predictable outcome, not the least likely. Add to that J-Hay's awesome 'There's one fast guy in this whole equation,' and the foundation for a fun column was in place.
• The other mental checklist item I'd added was finding out how everyone aside from the spare part Lambo seemed so unmoved by the moment. It was the Pirates' first triple play in five years, their second in 21 years. Even at an individual level, they hadn't pulled off many of these since Little League.
J-Hay carried this, too, and that's good because the column was then afforded a chance to turn the play into a chance to embrace the bigger picture of how this team was taking shape.
I learned this a long time ago from Dave Molinari. One thing you'll notice in his work, including individual game pieces, is that he never loses the macro amid all the micro. I admired that in his reporting going way back to my own college days. As a result, I always felt like I as a reader kept a firmer grip on where the Penguins were overall, not just that day. Maybe they stunk and stole two points. Maybe they were dominant and still lost. He'd always take whichever angle was more prominent toward the ultimate goal, even way back when that was a pipe dream.
• No one will ever convince me that the senseless one-and-done wild card format didn't rob this group of something far more special than what they achieved. I'm reminded of that a lot in re-reading this. It's so hard to win 90-plus games, never mind the 98 they'd win the following year. Way harder than winning in the playoffs and World Series.
• Baseball can be beautiful. And it could even become beloved again. Just needs to stop eating itself.
There'd better be a deal.
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