An Unlikely Hero

I am not a big baseball fan, though I have always enjoyed a trip to the stadium to watch “America’s favorite pastime” with family or a friend. Among the family folklore is seeing the four Bryants on the stadium screen at Candlestick Park where we got to see Barry Bonds hit one of his now discredited homers. Another was watching the Padres in the World Series on TV waiting to see if my sister’s connection to a camera operator would pay off, when sure enough, to our delight there was a familiar Padre fan living out his dream, cheering his team as we cheered seeing our father on national TV. High fives with my sister quickly followed.

Columnist George Will, on the other hand, is a big fan and occasionally takes time off from his normal political commentary to write on some fascinating aspect of the sport. I still remember his column from some 20 years ago observing that the time it takes a 90 mph fastball to leave the pitcher’s hand and cross the plate is less than the time it takes for the human brain to process information captured by the eye and then to translate that into the necessary muscle movement to swing a bat, which does much to explain why even the best of hitters miss on average two out of three at bats. Brett Phillips is not one of those.

Skipping college for a chance to play in the big leagues, Phillips spent six years in the minors before making a brief appearance with the Milwaukie Brewers and then spending a season and a half with the Kansas City Royals. His batting average in the majors is a mere .202. But he is a solid outfielder with a rocket arm and a fast runner. In need of a pinch runner, Tampa Bay picked him up for their post season run. By the time game 4 of the World Series came around, Phillips had been to the plate just twice in the playoffs and was 0 for 2.

Bottom of the ninth, Tampa Bay was down 7 to 6 with two outs and runners at first and second. Phillips was put in the game as a pinch runner in the previous inning and it was now his turn at the plate. He quite literally was the last guy on the bench you’d want at the plate with the game on the line. On the mound, however, was Kenley Jansen, the Dodger’s best closer and the right man to have at the bottom of the ninth when all you need is one more out to take a commanding 3 – 1 lead. Indeed, after throwing two strikes at which Phillips did not swing, Jansen was only one strike away from a W.

Phillips grew up just 14 miles from the Tampa Bay stadium. Having played for six different teams from California to the Appalachians in the minors and then a short stay in Milwaukie and Kansas City, Phillips could hardly imagine playing for the home team let alone in a World Series. Known better for his contagious laugh than his bat, here he was on the biggest stage of baseball in the situation that is every hitter’s dream–the chance for a “walk-off” hit to end a World Series game. How rare is it? It was last done in 1988 and before that in 1947. Twice in 73 years, and here he is, his first at bat in the World Series facing a 1-2 count, a considerable advantage for an experienced pitcher.

Commentators are talking about the game as one of the wildest finishes in World Series history. Take a moment to watch for yourself if you haven’t seen it. (My favorite: no commentary) Phillips’ first and only swing of the bat in a World Series game was all that was needed on this night, scoring two runs (the second due to two unusual errors for the Dodgers). Phillips saw the winning run score as he rounded second base and then took a sudden right to center field. Watching this young man run wildly into the outfield, arms outstretched as he took flight in the fantasy of every young player’s dream, my grin was as wide as his as I celebrated with him in this moment of absolute joy.

For a few moments of a players’ bliss the world was a good and delightful place again, and then the one dimensional fans frozen in place where real people should have been brought me back to the world as it now is. That contrast of the very animated Phillips mobbed by his teammates in front of motionless cutouts is an image for this time–the world of life and joy we desire v. the world of distancing and stiffness we know. Maybe it’s just because I have spent the last 14 days in quarantine after exposure to COVID, but something touched me in that moment of sheer exuberance to remind me of the wonder and beauty of life that still exists even now, hidden perhaps for a time behind a mask and constrained by travel restrictions.

After the devastation of wildfires, worries over the election, the sham Senate hearings for a most partisan Supreme Court nominee, and a dramatic increase in COVID infections with no end in sight, it was good for a few moments just to laugh with the funniest man in baseball, an unlikely hero who got the last laugh of the game. He is but one of many unlikely heroes out there who show us that life is still good. And here’s the best part. We don’t even have to be the bench warmer who gets that once-in-a-lifetime chance to win the game for the team, because the beauty of being human is that the delight of another can be our own.

So celebrate with Brett Phillips. Celebrate with the soldier who has come home after a long tour. Celebrate with the 18 year-old casting their first vote. Celebrate with newlyweds their joy even in a virtual wedding. Celebrate the volunteers who make it possible to open warming shelters on freezing nights. Celebrate the farmworkers who never stopped harvesting our food. Celebrate the health workers who never stopped working and the care givers who never stopped caring. And celebrate everyone of the 58 million Americans who believe in democracy and have already cast their votes.

After six days of creation, Genesis concludes, “it was very good.” Never forget, it still is.

Photo: Tim Heitman/USA Today Sports, via Reuters