Anyone remember that feeling between the top & the bottom of the ninth of Game 1 of the 2015 World Series? Down by 1. Facing a loss at home, deGrom, Syndergard, Matz (and another round of Harvey) looming? Thinking my gosh, did we come all this way only for another heartbreak?
It could have gone either way. At that point, hope and doubt fought for control of my brain. So many opportunities to score, to gain the lead, vanquish the Mets. After one out in the 9th, I couldn’t take it. I sat, afraid to look, while everyone else stood.
Then, with Gordon at the plate, a roar went up, and I stood in time to see that glorious game-tying homer go over the center field wall. Hope lived! The fight was still alive.
This weekend is like the middle of the 9th. Hope lives. Kelly can win. (This is far more important a fight, though my baseball heart that night in 2015 would have fought you on that.).
Alex Gordon will have a statue at Kaufman someday. What will Greg Orman have?