Bay Ball Bonanza

Matt Bruce

The Mets and Giants are tied, 2-2, with two outs and the bases loaded in the bottom of the 11th inning. Even as I write, the A's and the Yankees are well under way. As a build continues to load in the background of my screen (I am at work), I think about the history of postseason baseball and the number of times something like this could happen.

On the same small television set last year, though a full continent away, I watched from work as Kevin McGlinchey self-destructed late in that Braves-Mets marathon. The Yankees and Red Sox, playing just a few miles from my office, were on the radio but nobody (including the umpires) had yet taken much of an interest in the game.

Do you remember where you were when Robin Ventura's sayonara grand slam became a sayonara single? I do, because I was writing minor-league hockey recaps with an office all to myself. At least one minor-league baseball GM was putting some offseason work in, as he actually had the presence of mind to call my old workplace for an explanation (he was calling his official statisticians, after all).

Here, it's a bit humbling to realize that the effects of these games and even the scoring decisions made in them will have absolutely no effect on whether a particular web site launches on Monday. Also, by no means am I alone in the office this time. That said, they do let even Internet startup employees out for a good time every now and then, and what better time and place to experience the 2000 postseason than Northern California?

Our story begins on the Friday before last. Die-hard Giants fans who enjoy doing these things in person camped out, desperately seeking the thousand or two seats remaining for games at a trendy team's tiny ballpark. Their net-savvy compatriots staked out choice computer time for the 10 am sales rush. Despite network delays and even site crashes at both the ticket vendor and sfgiants.com itself, I do know people who had tickets secured by the middle of that afternoon.

The bad news for me, hosting a friend that weekend, was that two hours of downtime I had at a UC-Berkeley kiosk proved quite insufficient for the task. The good news was that, just in case, I'd snagged A's playoff tickets with a simple phone call earlier that week. TV viewers may have noticed that Oakland failed to sell out either of its first two games, though the behemoth center field bleachers (known as Mt. Davis, after the football owner who rammed them down the stadium's throat) provide most of the explanation.

Close followers of the division know that it was not until that Friday night that Oakland finally surpassed Seattle for the AL West league. My friend, ever the trouper, joined a pair of grad students and myself at the Coliseum for three hours and 40 minutes of nine-inning, regular-season, Wagnerian drama.

Remarkably, the Red Sox were still mathematically alive in their own division until that very night. My guest's oddly profound comment: "They should just lose already and not get their fans' hopes up." Indeed, trailing 8-4 at Tampa, they scrounged up a pair of runs in the ninth inning before succumbing before our scoreboard-watching eyes.

Here should lie a description of that game, except that now I remember only that my Rangers made several pitching changes, the A's drew a lot of walks, and that most of the runs scored on ground balls. Great plays by Oakland to prevent further runs from scoring, embarrassing errors by the last-place visitors. Jason Isringhausen notched the save despite relatively lame theme music.

(If the Giants were to play a World Series game at Oakland and Robb Nen were to face Randy Velarde, would the Oakland PA system play "Smoke on the Water" anyway, knowing full well that it was really Nen's theme?)

The rest of the weekend (by the way, Mets are in the 12th, Barry Zito still looks dominant a borough over, the build is done and I've been asked to turn down the sound), the A's and Mariners scored a bunch of runs to send Cleveland home for the winter. The Giants blew a game late at Arizona as I watched at this charming cafe right across the street from City Lights Bookstore (Beatnik poets and all that) but came back Sunday and torched Randy Johnson. John Rocker imploded with two outs in the ninth against Colorado, an eerie foretaste of Atlanta's oncoming choke.

("You brought a TV?" "That should help your productivity!" "Game's in the 12th inning --" "Just like this project!")

When neither working, playing tour guide, losing the Dave Niehaus "My oh my!" drinking game, agonizing with Barry Bonds (that pitch did sound inside on the radio), nor becoming horribly addicted to self-reference, I made it back across the Bay for a couple of late afternoons of Oaktown Mojo. Eighteen-hour games aren't so bad, I guess, if the seven in the middle involve a round trip to a ballgame.

Having already done everything but thank the Lord above, I'll try to squeeze some astute observations into my final 10 seconds:

1. Roger Clemens fail to win a postseason game at the Coliseum? Gosh, it's been years since that happened. Thanks for the memories -- and I hope somewhere Dave Stewart was smiling.

2. Disappointing finish to that second game, though I really thought they had a chance after Luis Sojo fell on his ass in the eighth. Of course, I also thought they had a chance in the seventh before Ben Grieve grounded into about his 40th double-play this month.

3. The drummers in the left field bleachers are a nice touch. The one I sat one section over from Thursday afternoon? She was especially cute.

4. After Game 1 there was a lot of celebration (in fact, "Celebration" is Oakland's song of choice on the PA system after a win), yet I saw absolutely no barking. As much as I love the teams involved (and as much as I was into this song at first), some trends just must die.

5. Speaking of the PA, the real reason the A's lost Game 2 was that nobody played the "Phantom of the Opera" theme for a man-on-base situation.

6. Telling exchange, witnessed in the parking lot after Game 1. As a guy drove past in a Yankee cap, pedestrians yelled to him, "Yankees suck!" His response: "Where were you during the regular season?"

Where indeed? To be a real fan, don't just read about the games -- go to one, if you can. (East Bay, this means you.) The Giants and Mets remain tied, but I sign off to catch a thrilling finish.

about the author

The last time Matt Bruce saw Benny Agbayani hit a home run that big, he had just woken up on his roommate's floor on a fine April morning. Write to mb@strikethree.com to reassure him that the part about Regis and Kathy Lee speaking Japanese was all just one horrible nightmare.