Talking podcasts, pickleball with Mookie Betts
ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. (unfortunately) - In the world of major league clubhouses, what could be found on the Red Sox' side of things at Tropicana Field after a 2-0, 2-hour and 7-minute loss to the Rays was about as anti-electric as they come.
This was a team that had one hit, 11 strikeouts and no walks while sitting just one game in front of the fourth-place club it had just lost to and four in back of now two teams - Minnesota and Detroit - for the final Wild Card spot.
"You know, man, it's baseball, man," Red Sox outfielder Jarren Duran, opening up his media availability after the game.
True. But it sure seemed different that what I inexplicably drove four hours to get away from in order to witness was an uninspired version of the game. What was happening over on the East Coast of the same state at this moment was the exact opposite.
It was about as good as anyone had ever seen. It was history.
And it was something I decided to not be in attendance for in order to receive a slap-in-the-face reminder that life is sometimes not fair. If I wasn't sitting here laughing while writing this, I would certainly be weeping tears of regret from missing the greatest game ever played by a major league baseball player.
Some background: I had spent Monday, Tuesday and most of Wednesday in Miami, choosing to catch up with really interesting ballplayers who made for really interesting Baseball Isn't Boring podcasts. Mookie Betts. Joe Kelly. Michael Kopech. Others.
While keeping tabs on the Red Sox' quest to save their season against the Rays, the immersion into a team (the Dodgers) who were positioning themselves for October with a player (Ohtani) who was on the verge of history was a nice change. Tons more media. Tons more smiles. Tons more excitement.
Tuesday, Ohtani offered all in attendance at LoanDepot Park a taste of his excellence, hitting his 48th home run while eliciting the biggest cheer from a home crowd for a visitor's performance perhaps in the history of baseball.
The next day rolled around and I stuck around, having some Cuban food with my co-author, Kelly, while sitting down with Betts for a conversation about podcasts and pickleball. And, as planned, I was in my car by first pitch, starting the 265-mile trip to make sure the never-say-die Red Sox' efforts were properly captured.
Ohtani was, after all, still two homers away from the 50-50 moment, and the great game of baseball could have very well been just as momentous at Tropicana Field with the Red Sox having now won a game to sneak back into the postseason conversation.
Spoiler: It wasn't.
What I witnessed Thursday was the opposite of momentous. What I could have experienced if not for the decision to get in that rental car and drive through South Florida rainstorms over and up Interstate-75 was the kind of history baseball fans wait their whole life to see ... nevermind watch in-person.
Understand, this wasn't just the kind of juxtaposition the great and not-so-great often experience in a baseball season. Those sort of moments can usually be found simply by comparing any A's game in Oakland to a come-from-behind midsummer Red Sox win at Fenway.
This was about an extreme reminder of how unmemorable and memorable a sport can be. Same state. Same day. Same human beings.
If you want to get in the weeds of why they had such nice things over in Miami, while the Red Sox were left talking about continuing to try hard and decipher where it keeps going wrong, we can do that all day long. The conversation probably begins and ends with the quest to find players who offer you more certainty than anything found in that Red Sox' clubhouse these days.
But it is what it is when it comes to the current Red Sox' experience. That conversation has been turned inside-out for the past two months. Thursday's story is about unbelievably awesome - and memorable - every single day can be thanks to this great game.
For most at The Trop on this night, the memories will probably begin with getting free tacos after the Rays struck out more than 10 batters, and end with the ability to catch the second half of Thursday Night Football.
That is, with one exception: Me.
Maybe it was fitting that on this historic night in baseball a historically bad decision was made by this baseball media member. Oh, well. At least I have a good story to tell. And isn't telling stories what baseball is all about? (Sounds good to me.)