Spilly's Heroic Slam

Now, this has nothing to do with London. But it happened on the eve of the eve of my journey, and I happen to think it was a sign that good things are to come. Plus, it was the most magnificent night of my life so far, so this is what we're hoping to top.

Ryan Spilborghs is my favorite baseball player. He is an outfielder for the Colorado Rockies, my favorite team. Ryan is a goofball, and has a reputation for shaving his beard in the most peculiar ways, just for fun. I like him.

Last night we played the San Francisco Giants. When we started this series, they were tailing us for the Wild Card position in the National League (Wild Card = birth to the playoffs). We lost the first game but won the second two. Last night we were playing the fourth, either letting the Giants tie the series up or breaking ahead of the crowd and coming three games away from the Los Angeles Dodgers, who are at the top of the National League West. Translation: relatively big game.

Long story short, it's tied 1-1 in the 9th inning. And we got into a tenth. And an eleventh. And I'm sitting in the bleachers between left and center field, biting my nails, watching each out like it's a death sentence, losing interest, getting bored, getting excited again only to ground into a double play, etc. The night dragged on.

14th inning: Giants get three runs. Oh no. It's now 1-4, and there is no way we're getting out of this. I look at my friend and she says, "It's over. It's just over. We're not coming back." So the bottom of the 14th will be a formality. We sit there as the bases slowly fill, as Fowler hits the ball into his knee but we, being in the 14th inning, are out of players to put in, so he hobbles to first base on a walk. Torrealba gets a hit. Fowler hops to second. Bags loaded. Baby pitcher Eaton up to bat. Manager Jim Tracy tells him not to swing. Gets walked. Run walks in. Now 2-4. Spilly comes up to bat. Takes a strike. BOOM. Over the right field fence. GRAND SLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The few fans that have stayed till the bitter end erupt in cheering the likes of which I haven't seen since 2007. We hug and dance and slap high-5's, and as I realize I just witnessed my favorite player perform a feat most players don't even dream of, tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I watch the mob of players dance around home plate, encompassing Spilly in Lodo love. The few fans that have waited the game out stand dazed, still cheering, long minutes after Spilly runs home. As we walked past the FSN broadcasting desk, a small mob begins cheering at the cameras. The anchors acknowledge our excitement and begin gesturing towards us. The camera man pans over my face just as we erupt into the cheer, "BEAT LA! BEAT LA! BEAT LA!" Tomorrow night, the Dodgers are coming to town!

On my drive home I turn on 850 KOA, "Rockies Radio." The late-night talk show host is taking callers, talking about the impossible game that just happened in Coors Field. After twenty minutes of a busy signal, I begin a parlay with the host about how Spilly is my favorite player, and to witness his game-winning walk off Grand Slam is something dreams are made of. We talk about sticking it out to the end, not leaving, even though the crowed thinned from about 27,000 to 7,000 by the very end. It was true grit, staying for my Rockies, hoping against hope when we were down three runs in the 14th that something maybe, just maybe would happen.

And it did. And my hero, whose shirt I wear and whose autograph I revere, became the toast of Denver at midnight, when in an act of true Lodo Magic, Spilborghs hit a grand slam, and the Rockies beat the Giants 6-4.