Buster Posey, 1st inningThe ninth inning of last night’s Game 4 of the recently concluded series between the San Francisco Giants and the Chicago Cubs was as brutal a finish to a game as I’ve ever witnessed. Five Giant relief pitchers combined to cough up four runs and render what had been a 5-2 lead into a 6-5 loss. I and the other forty-three thousand fans in the park had barely begun to process what had happened when the entire Giants season went up in the smoke of Aroldis Chapman’s 100-mph fastballs. I know that accepting tragedy is a necessary part of appreciating the joy of baseball, or anything else in life, but last night put that philosophy to an extreme test. In retrospect, this outcome was inevitable—you can’t hide a bad bullpen forever.
The bright side, and I do mean this, is that the Cubs get to move on to the National League Championship Series and continue their quest to bring a century’s worth of overdue joy to their fans. If they do the unthinkable and hold a parade on Michigan Avenue, I will consider the honor of having witnessed a part of their achievement well worth the price of admission.
