Nathaniel

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October 6, 2008

For Brett Myers and the Triumphant Phillies, ‘The Walk’ is Stuff of Legends

The Philadelphia Phillies’ first trip to the National League Championship Series since 1993 – clinched on Sunday – was nearly cemented in Game 2 of the Division Series against the Milwaukee Brewers. Shane Victorino’s grand slam in the second inning highlighted the game.

But what every Philadelphian and every true fan of the game will remember is The Walk.

Brett Myers can be an incredibly effective pitcher, although his awful start to the 2008 season landed him in the minor leagues for a brief stint. It was designed to remind him how to pitch, and it obviously worked, because since his return he has been one of the best pitchers in the National League.

His prowess at the plate is a different story. He is a career .116 hitter, which is lousy even for a pitcher. And in 2008, he’s outdone himself, hitting a remarkable .069, with a .129 on-base percentage.

And guess whose number was called with two outs and a runner on second in the second inning, to face C.C. Sabathia, who was experiencing one of the most dominating stretches any pitcher has ever had. Every Phillies fan, and every Phillies player, for that matter, knew Myers was going to strike out.

Brett Myers tends to have this fiercely determined look about him when he steps into the batter’s box, which is funny because you know he won’t get on base. So we know to take it with a grain of salt when he gets mad at himself every time he strikes out, as though he were expecting a different result than the previous 50 at-bats.

But here he was, in the second inning, with two outs, a man on third, a giant on the mound, no hope, and that determined look on his face we’ve all grown to disregard.

Pitch one flew by him like a rocket ship. He swung, but about a minute late and a foot high. So he swung earlier at the next pitch. In fact, I’m not sure the ball had left Sabathia’s hand before Myers swung. Needless to say, Myers quickly put himself in a predictable 0-2 hole in predictably pathetic fashion.

And predictably, he dug his cleats into the dirt, bonked his helmet tightly against his skull, wore his same determined expression, and gathered himself for pitch number three. But then something unpredictable happened. He got a piece of the next pitch, fouling it into the dirt.

The rest of the story details why I am so proud to be a Philadelphia sports fan. After that one foul, almost the whole stadium rose to its feet, and everyone cheered on Myers’s heroic effort to make Sabathia throw more than three pitches. Next pitch – ball. The crowd went wild.

Have you ever seen a crowd really go wild? You may think you have, but this was a special kind of wild. The fans knew Sabathia was pitching on three days’ rest for the fourth game in a row, they knew Myers was a useless hitter and they knew that every extra pitch the superhuman had to throw was one more pitch an inferior pitcher would have to throw later. All it took was a foul and a ball to set the crowd into a frenzy of appreciation.

Would you believe that the at-bat went nine pitches? Myers fouled off a total of three pitches, and laid off of some incredibly close ones which dropped in for balls. And around pitch six, the fans were hysterical.

After pitch seven, they could start to smell blood. All of a sudden, we were asking ourselves, “Could Myers seriously eke out a walk?” Of course the answer was no, but the thought occurred to us, and we cheered him on because, well, at least Myers thought he could get on base.

With a full count, Myers swung at pitch number eight and got a tiny piece of it to extend the at-bat. I’ve watched it again several times on YouTube, and if you don’t believe me, watch it for yourself. The fans were seriously losing it. Had Myers struck out on pitch nine, they would have continued to go nuts and cheer for the simple fact that one of the worst hitters in baseball forced one of the best pitchers to throw nine pitches. Had Myers swung and missed at pitch number nine, I still would have remembered that at-bat as one of the most heroic, unlikely at bats I’ve ever seen.

But when pitch number nine went wide, when the umpire stood up casually, refusing to motion the strike out, when Myers had earned the most unlikely walk any of us will ever see, simply to prolong the inning, the crowd roared like I’ve never heard. The place exploded with jubilation.

Four pitches later, Rollins followed with a walk of his own. And four pitches after that, with a 1-2 count, Victorino belted a grand slam into the left field stands. It would be nearly impossible to overstate the significance of Victorino’s incredible feat.

But decades from now, when I’m telling my kids, and eventually my kids’ kids, about my favorite sports memories, I can’t imagine I’ll get very far before I mention Brett Myers’s most unlikely of feats against C.C. Sabathia. How could I ever look back on Philadelphia sports history without remembering The Walk?

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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