Past meets present: Chris Sabo returns

Weekend photo gallery

Let me make one thing crystal clear here before we go any further. I am a Cubs fan -- for better or for worse, mostly worse -- lest you get the wrong idea from all the Reds data that has been posted as this blog has started out.

Marty Brennaman prepares to introduce Chris Sabo and Pedro Borbon

THAT BEING SAID, it's been cool to be back in Reds country where I grew up, and I have to admit it's good to see them playing so well -- since the Cubs apparently aren't going to challenge them. And I really got a kick out of this past weekend, during which the organization celebrated the 1990 World Series title.

Starting with Randy Myers and Norm Charlton -- two-thirds of the Nasty Boys -- along with Chris Sabo spending an entertaining few minutes during the series-opening television broadcast, to Sabo's Reds Hall of Fame induction, it's been a nostalgic weekend of reminiscing.

We went to the Reds-Rockies game on a stormy Saturday night to claim our coveted Sabo bobbleheads -- make no mistake, this promotion was marked on our calendar for weeks -- and watch as he, along with Pedro Borbon, were inducted. It was great to see "Spuds" again after all these years (even though he beat out Mark Grace for Rookie of the Year in 1988 -- we don't hold grudges here), his family and the buzz he created throughout the packed Great American Ball Park.

And his Sabo-esque speech certainly did not disappoint. The video I have from the game seems to be a bit large to run here, but MLB.com encapsulated the ceremony. I'll see about uploading the entire video later. Meantime, you'll have to settle for a brief clip of Sabo's ceremonial first pitch -- an "I don't want to be out here any longer than I absolutely have to" toss:

But capping the night was a brush with fate. Aaron was a huge Sabo fan growing up -- I was a big Paul O'Neill guy, and with the two being pals, we had a good time with it back then. There's an excellent article in the Cincinnati Enquirer, by the way, written by John Erardi this weekend, that sheds a little light on those two -- The Odd Couple -- during their Reds days.

Where's Chris Sabo?

So it felt a little more than coincidental to notice that Sabo made his way over toward where we were sitting and watched part of the game with some folks he knew, just a section away. As fans started to realize he was there, he started to get mobbed with autograph and photo requests while he was watching the game. It was a tantalizing opportunity to be that close and not drop by, and I played the devil on Aaron's shoulder to an extent, prompting him to go over -- "He's right there, man.. your childhood hero ... you can't be this close and not try and meet him..."

In other words, probably being a needling prick.

But Aaron wasn't biting. He didn't want to bother him while he was trying to watch the game, and he was content with the night as it was.

Later, Aaron got up to take a trip to the men's room, and lil' Sierra decided she would go with -- a key development. Because that prompted them to go to a family bathroom nearer to our section. To be honest, it crossed my mind to give Aaron my camera "just in case," but before I could, they were already gone and up the stairs.

And it is here that fate intervened.

Sure enough, whilst standing in line for the family loo, Mr. Sabo happened to be walking by, giving Aaron his golden opportunity after all to shake hands, say a few quick words, and settle for an admittedly grainy cell phone shot as Sabo waved and moved on.

It was a brief, but genuine, moment. He declared his night made, accompanied by the Reds' 8-1 victory, and didn't have to selfishly join the throngs of folks who were clamoring for the guy's attention to make it happen.

In other words: Just be cool and relax in situations like these. Because if it's meant to be ... it'll be.

Say it ain't so, Joe!

View from our seats: Joey Votto follows through on his game-tying three-run homer.

Nobody will ever figure out baseball ... and if I ever, even subtley, allude to the fact that I have, thump me on the ol' skull, will you please?

Not sure where this one is going to go, but let me start by asking a question: When you're watching a baseball game in which a team is facing a seemingly insurmountable deficit yet comes all the way back to tie in dramatic fashion, is it just me, or does it seem to be that the rallying team goes on to lose anyway?

Maybe it's a recent phenomenon, maybe it's always been this way, maybe it's an illusion and completely untrue, maybe it's having watched too many Cubs games, but it feels like more often than not, a team that rallies from behind in thrilling fashion and ties it up -- but is not able to take the lead -- late, still goes on to lose either in the ninth inning or in extras.

I have no stats to confirm or refute this and, probably more accurately, I'm too lazy to do any research involved, but I was front and center for a case in point last night involving the Cincinnati Reds at Great American Ball Park.

Forget the fact that this year's Reds team had won 24 games in come-from-behind fashion going into last night's game against the Philadelphia Phillies, 13 of which have been in their last at-bat. The Reds were down by five runs early, but chipped away to pull within three runs when the ninth inning rolled around.

After two quick outs, and the next three batters being the top of the lineup in Brandon Phillips, Orlando Cabrera and Joey Votto, this was the basic premise of a conversation Aaron and I had just before Phillips stepped in:

Aaron: Just get on, Phillips.. somehow... get two on for Votto..
Jeremy: Yeah, if Phillips gets on that's huge, b/c no way Cabrera goes 0-for-5
Aaron: And Votto will tie it up with a three-run homer.. I want it to be a no-doubter...
Jeremy: Man, that would be... humongous...
Aaron: This place would be nuts
Jeremy: I can't even imagine.. And then watch them lose in extras... it always seems like that happens when a team comes back to tie.. they just lose anyway..

I don't actually think either of us thought that was how it would go down -- but Phillips drew a walk and Cabrera promptly singled to bring up Votto, who, sure enough, could bring the Reds all the way back yet again from the verge of defeat with one swing.

And after a coaches visit to the mound, Phillies closer Brad Lidge battled Votto to a 1-1 count, before Votto crushed Aaron's "no-doubter" to the Cool Zone in right-center field to tie this baby up.

Aaron rejoices with Reds fans after Joey Votto's homer.

Now, if you could have heard how loud the place was -- the fans, the fireworks, The Brennamans -- feel the electricity, see the curtain call and all the players at the top step of the dugout, and trying to compute the improbability of everything falling into place that perfectly -- with 2 outs -- you'd have to logically think that the Reds would have to go on and win that game... the surge of momentum has to be almost tangible, and blowing that kind of lead on the road would have to be crippling for the Phillies.

Or maybe by assuming that, you drastically underestimate the resiliency and professionalism of a big league team -- this superhuman ability to respond at any time, under any sort of duress, to recapture what was rightfully yours and finish what you started.

Well, the latter was certainly the case again last night, because in the very next inning, the Phillies put up a three-spot to inexplicably waste the theatrics from a half-inning before, lending even more credence to the aforementioned theory.

But before Aaron and I, in our pomposity, had a chance to think we had it all figured out, the baseball gods threw their own curveball at us to turn this theory completely on its ear.

Yes, the Phillies went on to win this game by bouncing back with three runs in the 10th inning, but they scored those three runs off Arthur Rhodes -- the man who entered the game with a Major League single-season-record 33-game scoreless streak, (which he shared with two pitchers, so one more scoreless appearance would have given him sole possession of the record) including 30 consecutive scoreless innings.

In other words, no F-ing way...

And just to make sure we didn't have any more misgivings about our grasp on this sport, consider another conversation Aaron and I had that night. This one involved Jay Bruce and included such words as "frustrating," "disappointing" and "hasn't lived up to expectations for being so highly touted."

The following day, Mr. Bruce hit a go-ahead two-run homer in the eighth inning to give the Reds their Major League-leading 25th come-from-behind win and 14th in their last at-bat ... along with the series win over the Phillies.

Maybe it was the fact that his homer gave them the lead rather than merely drawing them even that ultimately deflated the Phillies ... then again, who knows?

What I do know, is that I know nothing. Nobody ... nobody has figured this game out in over a century, and for that I'm glad. Because every instance like this ensures that this game will remain a mystery for that much longer.

'Nobody is perfect'

I apparently created this blog a few years ago as one of those instances where I have the urge or a whim to do something, and then I lose interest. In this case, it's been sitting there and forgotten for years, but recently I've thought more and more about starting one up -- for what specific reason, I'm not exactly sure. I don't feel comfortable sharing every thought or feeling I have, I'm a pretty private person and I always kind of found this blog idea to be simply a method of garnering more attention than anyone really needs.

But there are times like tonight when I understand them, where I get that people have that need to vent and share a few thoughts from time to time. Because as I'm sitting here in my apartment, on my couch and watching the surprising Reds take on the Cardinals, while an ominous line of severe thunderstorms rumbles through, there was a development in baseball that has proven to be one of those instances that I just can't shake, and probably won't for a while.

Jim Joyce's fateful call at first. (Getty)

The Detroit Tigers' Armando Galarraga was one out away from a perfect game. Facing the Cleveland Indians' Jason Donald, the 27th and what would have been his final batter, Galarraga induced a ground ball to first baseman Miguel Cabrera. He went wide to field the ball and threw to Galarraga, who covered first, for what the cameras showed to be the final out by at least a step and a historic night for Galarraga, the Tigers, their fans and for Major League Baseball, which would have seen a Major League-record third perfect game this season ... and the third in 23 days for that matter.

Except first-base umpire Jim Joyce ruled the runner safe. Perfection denied. The baseball world stunned. A single, glorious moment in a pitcher's career, one that has only come around for 20 Major League hurlers, purely and simply stolen away by a fleeting millisecond of human error.

Now, as awful as I feel for Galarraga, it's equally painful that Joyce was just a guy going out tonight to do his job, a job he's done and done well for 23 years, and having no idea of the magnitude in which his life will change in just one hour and 44 minutes after first pitch. As the minutes grew into hours -- which will inevitably grow into days, weeks and years for Joyce -- articles, news segments, sound bytes and headlines have seized on this story, thrusting the spotlight of disgrace (A Wikipedia hacker snidely provided a death date for Joyce following the incident: June 2, 2010) onto a man who made a split-second mistake and will not only suffer the immediate anguish of regret at costing this kid the most prestigious accomplishment a pitcher can achieve, but a lifetime of carrying this with him, day in and day out.

Jim Joyce faces the Tigers' wrath (AP)

As I flip through the channels and browse the Internet that are now becoming saturated with this whole fiasco, and watching that final play ad nauseam, to see Joyce stand his ground, looking utterly alone, as he faces an irate team barking and pointing and hurling insults at him after the game, I can't stop thinking about this guy and what he's going through tonight, how he's dealing with the persistent barrage of his own thoughts of failure ... how he'll wake up tomorrow morning and maybe for a blissful second forget this had even happened, until the inevitable black wave of realization washes over him, ruling out any hope that it was all a bad dream.

Well, the Reds, meanwhile, went on to lose to the Cardinals and relinquish sole possession of first place, and as I chatted with my brother -- who is as big of a Reds fan as anyone I know -- about tonight's imperfect game, I think he encapsulated the whole overshadowing effect this incident has had by saying that he felt worse about Jim Joyce and Armando Galarraga than he did about the Reds' loss.

But as this whole ugly scene developed, I strangely started to become inspired by the admirable side of human nature that began to emerge. Joyce made no excuses after he looked at the replay, not only admitting he was wrong but flat out stating that "I just cost that kid a perfect game." He apologized to Galarraga in person, not hiding the emotion he felt over it, and he went into the Tigers clubhouse to apologize to the team.

Think of the courage that took to do.

And as all the announcers, analysts, reporters, columnists and fans rained unceasing blows upon Joyce for the blunder, really the only person that had every right to do so stayed silent. Galarraga only smiled in surprise -- or shock -- at the call, and afterward bore Joyce no ill will, saying he understands that "nobody is perfect" and even offering consolation for the umpire, who cost him not only a career-defining moment, but what can be considered a life-defining moment at that. Galarraga simply stated that he knows it was a perfect game, and knowing that is enough for him.

To that I say, Amen.

Baseball has always been a celebration of imperfection -- where a player who fails 70 percent of the time is a great player -- and it has widely been proclaimed a microcosm of life. Well, life is not perfect. And if our love of baseball and the beauty we find in it is rooted in the human element that can influence a game's outcome -- and without making a case for instant replay, an inevitable cry of debate that will increase exponentially because of this situation -- we have to be able to find a way, as difficult as it is, to understand that things like this can happen. Because it's a shame that a game that brings so much joy to people, can also ruin the lives of those who love it so much yet were unfortunate enough to screw up on its grand stage.

It's going to take some serious life perspective on Joyce's part to deal with this, there's no question. But I'm reminded of Don Denkinger, whose infamous blown call in the 1985 World Series defined his career, and instead of running and hiding from it, he's faced it head-on, has learned to live with it and, in a TV interview I saw a while back, has even hung a framed photo of his blown call in his house as a reminder that none of us are perfect ... and sadly, but fittingly, neither is baseball.

From what I saw of Jim Joyce tonight, he has that ability to move on from this, to frame this unfortunate chapter of his life within the context of life's imperfections and to be able to pick himself up, dust himself off and continue a well-respected career.

And equally important, we all need to learn to live with it, forgive and move on as well.

After all, Armando Galarraga already has.