Thursday, October 29, 2020

Virtual World Series: Mystery Appearances! Surprise Endings! Aliens! And All in All, a Long, Wet Slog...

Field conditions before tonight's Game Seven of the Virtual World Series were so bad that right up to an hour before game time, MLB was considering postponing the bout.  

Then the latest TV ratings arrived:  for Game Six, fewer than 10,000 people outside the Greater New York area had watched the most thrilling Series in year.

"Let's get this dog of a show off the air," Commissioner Rob Manfredmann ruled. "Fox has got to run a special edition of Dish Nation on Thursday!"

Throwing caution to the wind and lefty starter David Peterson against the Yankees, the Mets nonetheless bolted first out of the gate.  Brett Gardner, batting leadoff, stroked a long home run against Yankees starter Deivi Garcia, and Robinson Cano soon followed with a run-scoring double.

Garcia was pulled after three, ineffectual innings—but not before also surrendering run-scoring singles to Brandon Nimmo and Michael Conforto. Clarke Schmidt entered the game—only to give up a two-run homer to the Polar Bear. Adam Ottavino entered the game...only to exit it immediately, when the Yankees in the field behind him sat down in protest and refused to get up until he faked an injury and hobbled off to the dugout. Chad Green entered the game—and gave up back-to-back doubles to Jeff McNeil, J.D. Davis, and Amed Rosario.

The Yanks were able to muster home runs by D.J. LeMahieu and Aaron Judge in response, but still trailed, 6-2, headed into the sixth. Another home run by Luke Voit finally drove Peterson out of the game, and a triple by Aaron Hicks added a run against Jeurys Familia, but the Yanks were still down two headed into the ninth, when The Gleyber led off the inning with a long home run against Justin Wilson. 

Two outs later, Kyle Higashioka, the one man standing between Chasen Shreve and Yankee oblivion on the season...managed to reach out and hit an opposite-field single against the shift. Another LeMahieu hit sent Higgy to second—and then a long Hicks double plated him, and sent D.J. scrambling for home—where he was gunned down on a perfect throw from Gardy and a relay by Cano.

Six-to-six, headed into extras. To stop the bleeding, the Yanks had already exhausted Zach(k) Britton for three innings. Thrown in for the 10th out of sheer desperation, J.A. Happ surrendered a two-run blast to Cano. But Judge and Clint Frazier followed with doubles off Toonces in the bottom of the inning, and an Andujar single tied the game.

Back and forth it continued, through ever-rising levels of pitching incompetence. First Cessa gave up a run, then so did Wacha. Holder gave another one—and so did Porcello. Holder could not hold the Mets off the scoreboard, but Lugo was a lugnut against the Yanks. 

Johnny Lasagna and Robert Gsellman both pitched two shutout innings—then both gave up a run in inning number three. Monty was good for two shutout innings—but so was Jared Hughes. Tanaka gave it the last full measure of devotion for one more zero—but so did Steven Matz.

Finally, for the 20th inning, out came the big gun, again. Gerrit Cole, working on no rest, pitched a shutout inning. The Mets countered with...deGrom! Who shut down the Yankees in turn.

By this time, the full house was hoarse from shouting and cursing. At least ten drunks had already tumbled to certain death or worse from the upper deck. The Stadium Club was all out of roast beef AND gin.

And as the game went into the top of the 21st inning, those weird, glowing lights began to encircle the Stadium again. A strange, spherical object appeared high in the sky over the Bronx. Brian Cashman, in his full, eagle-protection suit, ran out on the field, screaming, "They won't take me alive!" before being hauled away by a grounds crew now thoroughly exhausted by their third rendition of "YMCA" on the night.

But everything went quiet, once they heard the music.  

Yankees fans had been pondering for days just who the new, mystery reliever the team had picked up might be. From the very first strains of "Enter Sandman," there was no doubt that the most outlandish rumors were true after all.

He looked almost as slender and lithe as he always had, running with his customary, unhurried lope, the number 42, by special dispensation, still on his back.

"Suzyn, there's no predicting whether one great pitch will live forever," John Sterling gurgled from the Kars-for-Krazy-Katz broadcast booth.

But there he was, out on the mound again. Jeff McNeil took strike three and just walked away, shaking his head. Pete Alonso swung and missed so hard that he pulled a core muscle on his last try. And Robinson Cano hit a broken-bat grounder that dribbled out to The Great One before he could even jog out of the box.

After that, the end seemed preordained. 

It had to be The Machine, D.J. LeMahieu, the most complete and clutch Yankee remaining after the Living Legend who had just sauntered off the mound. He timed deGrom's best fastball just well enough to clang it off the rightfield foul pole, and no doubt that would have brought on an ecstatic celebration, the likes of which had never been seen in Yankee Stadium III—save for the fact that the glowing, colored rings surrounding the ballpark began to increase in size and sound, the spherical object from above swooped lower, and the screaming throngs rushed for the exits.

"Ballgame over!" John Sterling began to proclaim, clutching to his microphone even as Suzie and Clyde hustled him bodily out of the reverberating ballpark.

The last man seen leaving the Stadium was Mariano Rivera, still in uniform, still walking unhurriedly, ignoring the fantastic, impossible, extraterrestrial light show behind him, a small smile playing over his lips.

The only one left behind was Brian Cashman, in his protective helmet, who could be heard screaming to the very end, "No, no! I'm NOT in control of the Yankees! The Yankees DON'T control the universe!"

But his words were drowned out by the great, unnatural noise the Stadium made as it was lifted up in its entirety and carried into the heavens, diminishing with astonishing speed into a tiny dot in the sky.

And in the virtual parking lots, while the Mets sobbed and lamented, "Now we have to wear Amazon penises on our shirts—forever!" and while John Sterling looked heavenward and proclaimed, "Improbable events over! Virtual World Series over! Brian Cashman over! Thuh-uh-uh Yankees win! The Yankees win!"—

—Hal Steinbrenner turned to Randy Levine and Lonn Trost and asked, "Seriously, how many more luxury suites could we get in a new park?" 

10 comments:

  1. Brilliant ending of an astonishing, epic, rollercoaster season.

    It was a thrill from beginning to end.
    There is absolutely no one who could have made this up. If anyone would turn this season into a movie, people would say that tha cast was way over the top with the likes of the Cashman character in particular. But really, Levine, Steinbrenner. Trost.
    I am sorry but introducing these fantasy figures takes away the credibility. Then you might as well throw in Santa Claus.

    Thank you so much Mr HoraceClarke66.
    This was wonderful. A total joy

    ReplyDelete
  2. Magnificent
    Better than the actual baseball season
    Thanks for all your posts

    ReplyDelete
  3. [sniff sniff] Thank you so much for reporting on that magnificent season.

    When do we get the graphic novel?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thanks, guys! It was a joy...and something I will never do again! I promise!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Yeah seriously. Truly truly enjoyable and well done. You might want to think about becoming a writer.

    Doug K.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Horace, you have resuscitated my flagging manhood to the (sic) point where I may spend the rest of the winter flogging myself beneath a genuine 1966 Horace Clarke rookie card. A card that can be had for the princely sum of $240 US dollars.

    https://vintagecardprices.com/pics/1818/547/167491.jpg

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  7. Magnificent, Hoss! Congratulations!

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