G.O.A.T.

“I don’t believe what I just saw.”

Jack Buck, 1988

The Muhammed Ali of baseball games.

The greatest.

The greatest game of all-time.

Hands down.

Yes, I realize you can’t just throw out that statement.

But I just did.

Game 6 of the 2011 World Series is the greatest baseball game in the history of our national pastime.

Period.

How do you define great?

Pick One:  

¹great adj \ˈgrāt

1 notably large in size

2 large in number or measure

3 remarkable in magnitude, degree, or effectiveness 

4 full of emotion

They all fit. 

I’m far from a baseball historian.

But I know my stuff.

For example, did you know the first baseball game was played on April 22, 1876.

True.

Wikipedia says so.

That day a rookie named Jamie Moyer beat the Cincinnati Red Stockings, 2.5-1.

The rules were a little different then.

But it was baseball.

The same game we love today.

Over the next 135 years, thousands... 

tens of thousands...

hundreds of thousands of games have been played.

Games with everything.

293 games with a cycle.

272 no-hitters.

20 Perfect Games.

Good games.

Bad games.

Long games.

Short games.

But no baseball game has ever been as great as what we saw on Thursday night.

Just when you thought it couldn’t take another twist.

It twisted again.

Like Chubby Checker.

This game had it all.

EVERYTHING.

Good pitching.  Bad pitching.

Good hitting.  Great hitting.

Good defense.  Atrocious defense.

You thought Silence of the Lambs was hard to watch.

Try watching Matt Holliday play left field.

Downright scary.

Now when I say this game was the greatest game.

I’m talking greatest game.

Not greatest moment.

Everyone knows the greatest moment in baseball history is Kirk Gibson.

Circa 1988.

The moment that inspired “I don’t believe what I just saw.”

But if Jack Buck was still with us, he wouldn’t believe what his son Joe saw at the new Busch Stadium on Thursday night.

This game went 11 innings.

At least one run in 10 of those.

19 runs in all.

28 hits.

6 homers.

42 players used.

15 players threw a pitch.

16 had a hit.

14 scored a run.

And four made an error.

In fact, Michael Young of Texas made two.

The game was tied five times.

The second inning.  Fourth inning.  Sixth inning.  Ninth inning and Tenth Inning.

And Texas broke the tie every time.

Well every time except one time.

The last time.

The Rangers got back-to-back homers to take the lead in the seventh inning.

Great moment.

The Cardinals battled back in the bottom of the ninth.

To tie the game.

Another great moment.

Down to their final strike, St. Louis native David Freese hit an opposite-field fly ball to right field.

Had the Rangers right-fielder Nelson Cruz made the catch.

A tough catch.

That would’ve been an historic moment.

And it would’ve closed a great game.

And a great series.

But he didn’t.

And when the ball bounced off the padding of that right field wall, a pair of Cardinals circled the bases to tie the game at 7.

And send it into extra innings.

Baseball’s version of sudden death overtime.

That tie would last exactly minutes.

That’s because in the top of the 10th inning, Josh Hamilton sent a ball over that same right field wall.

Over that wall.

Typical Texas.

Anything you can do I can do better.

A two-run homer.

9-7 Rangers.

And another great moment.

Game over?

Game not over!

In the bottom of that inning, the Cardinals battled back.

Again.

Are you starting to believe me about this greatest game thing?

Down 9-8, the Cardinals had two on with two out.

And two strikes.

That’s what Vin Scully calls the deuces wild.

Well wild it was when Lance Berkman singled to center scoring the tying run.

Again.

9-9.

Let’s go to the 11th.

For the cherry on top.

Enter Freese.

A 28-year old journeyman by baseball’s standards.

A guy who quit the game after high school.

A guy who had just 15 major league homers entering this post-season.

A guy who will never have to buy another Budweiser in his hometown of St. Louis.

Freese hit a high-flying home run to deep center field to give the Cardinals the unimaginable come-from-behind victory.

Setting up a winner-take-all game 7.

Capping the greatest game of baseball we have ever seen.

Even if we couldn’t believe what we just saw.

Coke Isn't It

I've had plenty of opportunities to do drugs in my life.

Plenty.

After all, I went to high school in LA.

And college in LA.

But thankfully I was able to just say no.

Don't worry, this is not going to be a blog about how I am better than you.

Because I’m not.

For example, I guarantee I've consumed more calories than you.

GUARANTEED!

And that's nothing to be proud of.

But when it comes to drugs, there’s one definite reason why I passed whenever my friends would offer.

My dad.

Actually a close friend of my dad.

He had three sons.

Had.

The first son died of a heroin overdose.

Then the third son died of a heroin overdose.

Leaving him with one.

The loneliest number that you’ll ever do. 

Those tragedies happened before I was born.

But from the time I was yay high my dad told me that story.

And it obviously... thankfully... scared the hell out of me.

Now if guilt by association was a crime, I'd be in jail right now.

I seemed to hang around plenty of people who traveled down that dangerous road.

They would offer.

I would say no.

And we would move on.

But there was this one time.

In college.

Of course.

A bunch of us took a road-trip to a nearby college for a wild weekend away.

We were at our hotel on a Saturday afternoon.

Most of my friends were doing things my dad would not approve of.

I wasn't.

Well sorta.

While my boys were being boys.

I decided to put a little pinch between my cheek and gum.

Tobacco.

The smokeless kind.

Now if you've never done it.

Try it.

I DARE YOU!

Once.

You won't do it again.

Hopefully.

In one word, it is the most disgusting horrendously gross awful thing.

Ever.

Unfortunately I learned the hard way.

At first the flavor was kinda ok.

But within minutes I was spinning more than the tea cups at Disneyland.

Within minutes of spinning, I was throwing up.

All while my friends were “just chillin”.

How funny is that.

I'm blowing chunks from something you can buy... legally...  at a convenience store.

While my friends were totally relaxed from doing something they bought on the street corner outside the convenience store.

I must admit, I always wanted to try mushrooms.

“Those” mushrooms.

But I never did.

The idea of hallucinating always seemed really cool to me.

I heard that if you put M&Ms in your palm while you were high on “shrooms”.

The M&Ms actually looked like they were jumping up and down on their own.

Beat that Pixar.

Here's the thing with drugs.

They are addicting.

This just in.

Even though my one-time dipping experiment didn't end so well.

The fact that I tried it once was the bad part.

No upside there.

Len Bias tried cocaine once.

On the early morning of June 19, 1986.

At 8:55am he was pronounced dead.

None of us know for sure if that was really the only time that Bias tried cocaine.

But that's what his mom believes.

And that's good enough for me.

She lost more than anyone.

More than the Boston Celtics.

The team that selected Bias with the second pick in the NBA Rookie Draft just two days earlier.

Ron Washington only tried cocaine once too.

At least that’s what he says.

It was the first week of July 2009.

Washington was in Anaheim.

Near Disneyland.

With his team, the Texas Rangers.

Washington was the manager of the Rangers.

The 57-year-old manager.

But for one night he lost his way.

And what made it worse.

Just a few weeks later Washington was told he was on “the list”.

The list of players and coaches to be randomly tested by Major League Baseball.

Washington knew the outcome of the test before the cup was wet.

Fortunately for him the story didn’t leak to the public for nearly nine months.

No pun intended.

But even though the baseball world didn’t know what was going on.

His bosses were told right away. 

Washington offered to resign.

They said no.

Instead his team had him attend counseling.

He went through the MLB drug program.

And came out the other side.

Safe.

It would’ve been easy for the Rangers to accept that resignation.

Or find another way to get Washington out.

Even with just one strike.

But instead they stuck it out with the man they entrusted with leading this team of young men.

And his team responded last year.

By winning their division.

And winning the American League.

And reaching their first World Series.

Ever.

And now, a year later.

More than two years removed from Washington’s momentary lapse of reason.

His team is knocking on the door again.

Four wins away from reaching the World Series again.

Eight wins away from being a World Champion.

Although it’s pretty easy to say that Washington has already won his toughest game.

Black Diamond

A few months ago my 12-year old son and I went to a Major League Baseball game.

We got there early.

For batting practice.

We both brought our gloves.

Just in case.

As soon as we walked into the stadium, my son sprinted directly into the right field pavilion.

He locked in on one of the visiting San Diego Padres and yelled.

“Hey Adams, throw me a ball.”

My son knew him as Adams.

Because that was the name on the back of his uniform.

I knew him as relief pitcher Mike Adams.

Because he’s on my fantasy baseball team.

But either way.

Adams picked up a loose ball and threw it our way.

The throw was a little short.

But my son short hopped the ball.

As it hit the ground.

Like he was playing first base.

And presto.

He had himself a souvenir.

The goal of every young boy.

To go home from the game with a souvenir.

That was the same goal for Cooper Stone.

A six-year old fan of the Texas Rangers.

Cooper and his dad Shannon went to a Rangers game a few weeks ago.

They sat in the front row.

Behind the left-field scoreboard.

One of the best seats in the house.

On their way to the game, they stopped at a sporting goods store.

To buy a glove.

Just in case.

Or perhaps they had a feeling that this would be the night.

The special night.

The night that Cooper would head home with a ball.

The night he would never forget.

The Rangers took a 1-0 lead in the top first inning.

Courtesy of a Josh Hamilton RBI.

Cooper’s favorite player.

At the end of the first inning, Hamilton headed out to his position in left field.

Right in front of Shannon and Cooper.

As their luck would have it, moments later a foul ball caromed off an empty seat.

And landed next to Hamilton.

So he picked up that loose ball.

And tossed it into the stands.

Like he had done.

Countless times before.

Hamilton said he had heard a fan scream earlier to throw a ball his way.

So he threw it that way.

The fan was Shannon Stone.

Cooper’s dad.

The throw was a little short.

So Shannon reached over the railing.

To catch the ball.

For his son.

But the throw was shorter than Shannon expected.

And when he reached out to catch it.

He leaned too far forward.

And lost his balance.

Falling over the railing.

20 feet down.

Head first.

Onto a concrete floor.

When the paramedics got to Shannon, he was conscious.

At least conscious enough.

Conscious enough to be heard saying:

“Please check on my son.  He is up there by himself.”

Even in his worst moment.

Before anything else.

Shannon was a dad.

The emergency personnel checked on Cooper.

And took him from the front row.

To the front seat.

Of the ambulance.

That drove his dad to the hospital.

But on the way there, things took a terrible turn.

A tragic turn.

The trauma from the fall sent the 39-year old father into “full arrest.”

He was pronounced dead an hour later.

The story shocked the world.

The baseball world.

The Texas world.

My world.

How could this happen?

Why did this happen?

The answer to these questions didn’t matter.

The only thing that did was that a father was gone.

And a son was scarred.

Forever.

I don’t know the Stone family.

But I’m a dad.

I’m a human.

And I can’t help feeling for what they must be going through.

Even though I can’t even come close.

To feeling what they are going through.

A father and a son head to the ballpark.

For a night of perfection.

And what transpired was anything but.

The best of times became the worst of times.

In a matter of seconds.

Recently I visited the Ballpark in Arlington.

For a game.

My friend and I bought the cheap seats.

But snuck into the good ones.

Right behind home plate.

To see a game.

But from the moment I got there.

I couldn’t stop staring.

Staring at left-field.

Right above the scoreboard.

Where the game didn’t matter.

Where a boy lost his dad.