Don't stop believing

It was over. We were done. It was Game Six all over again - memories of an endless stream of Marlins reaching base throbbed in my head. It was my fault; I'd created bad karma by fawning over the bullpen's recent success. I had oohed over their two runs in their last 16 1/3 innings, aahed over their one blown save in June. I had jinxed them, and now it was all coming crashing down - Piniella had left Eyre in to close out the game, up 8-3 in the top of the ninth. He had thrown 1 1/3 already, but on only 21 pitches, and maybe he hadn't looked great, but we didn't need great. We needed three outs. Surely even Eyre was capable of that.

But then there was a single. Then a walk. Then a double; 8-4, second and third. Even Piniella had seen enough. Time to bring on the fill-in closer, Bob Howry, who had been so effective against the White Sox. Turns out, the Rockies hit better than the White Sox. Or Howry gets nervous with inherited runners. Suddenly every pitch was a hit. Single; 8-5. Single; 8-6. And the coup de grace, the finishing touch on the brutality of the inning - Troy Tulowitzki taking one out. At least there was nobody on now. 9-8 Rockies. It was over. It always is.

Yet hope springs eternal. True baseball fans don't walk away from a game in progress and I couldn't move away from the TV. Howry settled down, inducing two ground balls to Theriot before striking out the pinch-hitter. Down one going into the bottom of the ninth. Usually the Cubs lose this game; usually most teams lose this game. A seemingly impregnable lead vanishing in the space of six hitters, all of whom scored. That's knee-buckle time.

Then something started happening. DeRosa opened with a single. Pagan struck out. Bowen hit a lazy bouncer to first - sure double play, even with Pie pinch-running. But the Rockies settled for the force at second; it was hard to see, but I don't think Fuentes got to first in time. Bowen seemed like he would have been meat in any other situation; instead he was on. Still, it was a man on first - a slow man on first - with two outs.

Pinch hitter... Koyie Hill? He was the best call, with most of the bench hitting lefty and Fuentes throwing from the same side. But what's Hill hitting - .200? Great. It's over.

But it wasn't over. Hill fell behind 1-2, then sliced one into left field. First and second. Jones comes in to run for Bowen.

Theriot. 2-for-2. He rolls one to second. Great, that's it. And then Matsui muffs it - everybody's safe! And suddenly you just get that feeling. It's there for the taking. Tonight the baseball gods are smiling on the Cubs. And Alfonso Soriano comes up with the bases loaded and two outs, and he's 0-for-5 tonight...

Ball one.

Sinking liner to right center... and IT DROPS IN AND WE'RE TIED AND HERE COMES HILL AND HE SCORES STANDING UP AND THE CUBS WIN!!!!!!!!!

Jubilation. I don't even know what to do. I run onto the porch, hoping to hear the cheers from the stadium; they're not carrying well tonight, so I channel all the energy in my body into one long, excited scream.

The Cubs may not win the World Series this year. They may not even make the playoffs. But games like this are why I'm a sports fan. I don't think there's anything else in life that can swing a human being so quickly from the pit of greatest despair to the highest heights of joy. It is an entertainment that you honest-to-goodness care about, and on a rare night like this, when you are rewarded with an unforeseen swing of the pendulum that favors your team where it so rarely seems to, it's the sweetest entertainment of all.