A Great Moment

There's nothing sudden about great moments.

According to Webster, a moment is: 

"A very short period of time. A particular time. A precise point in time."

Great moments, though, don't just happen in isolation, out of the blue, without a context that might be minutes or hours or days or weeks or months or years or decades (e.g. 22 years) long. There's nothing short, or particular, or precise about great moments.

One of the great moments in my life took place on a beached surf board with my two older daughters - sodden, exhausted, starving - after a morning in surfing lessons in the cold ocean on a cloudy day on the west coast of BC. The moment involved some cobbled-together turkey-and-tomato sandwiches and a flash of sunlight triumphantly penetrating the clouds, at last. But take away the grey morning, the damp clothes, the aching muscles, my beautiful daughters, Mom's absence because Nonno had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer...and take away the drive across Vancouver Island listening repeatedly to "Hey There Delilah" and the cabin in the woods the night before and our complete failure collectively to actually stand up on a surfboard...and you basically have a so-so sandwich, shitty weather, and a lot of chafing.

Jose Bautista hit a home run last night. Great moment.

Here's why:

• Before hitting the home run, Bautista had basically been a complete playoff bust despite being one of the top players in baseball since "suddenly" emerging as a superstar a few years ago, and despite his usually clutch performances, and despite a career which to that point had never included the playoffs. Bautista is the guy you don't want to make mad - usually - having made a notable habit of punishing opposing pitchers and teams when they pitch him inside or anger him in any other way. But here he was, late in a series, having failed to deliver in those kinds of moments several times. Would he now and forever be known for his feeble pop-ups instead of  his grandiose home runs? A playoff under-performer? A choker? No. In this defining moment, he rose to the occasion...
• And before Bautista had the chance to swing the bat, there was the Texas infield, not once, not twice, not three times but FOUR TIMES blowing relatively routine plays. That doesn't happen. Ever. But it happened last night, opening the door for Bautista's at-bat...
• And maybe that happened because in the top of the inning the crowd got ugly, emotions ran high, players waited around and milled about, and did everything but what they usually do - especially on great teams - which is to play baseball and make routine plays. And some of the young players were suddenly a little more nervous and cautious and caught up in the moment...
• And all that certainly happened because of one of the weirdest plays I've ever personally seen - again, a usually routine moment where a catcher lobs a ball back to the pitcher, turned into yet another sports disaster for a city that has known nothing but sports disasters for over two decades. (Or so it seemed at the time...)
• Which drove some usually well-behaved fans to drink and misbehave, embarrassingly and dangerously delaying the game further by throwing beer and other watery beverages onto the field; behaving so because of those same 22 years of frustration and their fury with the "Gods of Sport" once again throwing their fickle support behind the other team...
• And the game being a game only because Marcus Stroman - who wasn't even supposed to play baseball again until next year - rose to the occasion of getting a start in the biggest baseball game in the city in forever. Stroman, pitching in a deciding Game 5 only because his Manager and the rest of the braintrust for the Jays, believed in him and made moves in Game 4 (to preserve a Game 5) that were both controversial and fateful - but in a good way this time...
• And the Jays being in the playoffs only because their GM - a Canadian for heaven's sake - did everything right in assembling a team that grabbed the brass ring in the second half of a season that seemed otherwise doomed to mediocrity and underachievement, just like each of the years that preceded it, in every sport that matters in our insanely loyal city...
• And all of that taking place in Toronto, where we always feel under-loved and under-appreciated and conspired-against, and also fiercely proud.

Take away Bautista's back-story, and the teams', and the craziness in the top of the seventh, and the fans and the madness that has swept the city, and the four games that preceded it, and the second half of the season, and the first half of the season, and the 22 seasons before, and the Leafs, and the Leafs' loss to Boston a few years ago, and Wayne Gretzky hauling down Doug Gilmour in 1993, and all of that...and all you have is a home run. A nice home run.

But instead, we have a GREAT MOMENT that won't be forgotten for years and years and years no matter what happens from here on out.

Go Jays Go.