The Thunder Rolls – 09/10/02 by

Peter Elman

I’m away from home—far away—Sedona, Arizona, to be exact, and outside my

sister-in-law’s window is the most incredible sight—two gigantic red-rocked

mountains illuminated by bolts of lightning, and every few seconds,

thunder, not just your common summer storm variety, but the loudest,

scariest most primal sounding explosions found in nature are letting us

know once again who’s really in charge.

A few folks may be wondering why this normally effusive scribe has had

nothing to say during the Athletics’ remarkable run. Well, I have had lots

to say, but being the superstitious baseball junkie that I am, couldn’t put

it out there for the public. You see, my last column, dated August 12, was

the last game the A’s lost before the streak. They won, and won, and kept

winning, and there was no way that I would jinx them with my sophomoric

rants. So I waited until now, when the record is behind them and they can

hopefully get back to playing great baseball without the intense pressure

they have been subjected to lately.

Last Wednesday’s game was perhaps the most amazing baseball game I have

ever played in, coached, or witnessed as a fan. Those of us who were in

attendance know that there were forces at work that night that had little

to do with baseball. Labor Day the A’s had played poorly, only getting the

win when Tony Pena made a crucial mistake in the last inning. They deserved

to lose that game, and it was clear that it was just a matter of days when

they would lose a game, and badly at that.

Wednesday started out with the A’s playing as relaxed and carefree as they

have all season, coasting to an 11-0 lead that appeared insurmountable. But

the forces of fate conspired to change it all, with the dreaded “wave”

leading the way as Miguel Tejada, already frustrated after being hit and

whiffing while the rest of his teammates were tearing the cover off the

ball, booted an easy double play ball, opening the floodgates for five

Royal runs. Tim Hudson, bulldog that he is, settled down and went to the

bench after seven innings thinking that the win was in the bag.

Yet, once again, the baseball gods, and the fans, if you want to call them

that, intervened to derail the inexorable march into history. A nervous

Chad Bradford, no doubt distracted by a cadre of morons on Mt. Davis

heaving rolls of Charmin into centerfield, uncharacteristically walked the

first two Royals. And with the bases loaded, we saw what the pressure can

do to an all-star player, maybe even the MVP. Tejada’s ill-advised throw

home attempting to force Brent Mayne was a case of him trying to do too

much. He has been carrying the team all season, and, like the rest of the

team, was as tight as a drum.

As loose as they were early, that’s how tense they were late in the game.

Only Scott Hatteberg’s heroics saved them from the indignity of choking an

eleven-run lead and blowing their shot at the record. More importantly, a

loss could have sent the team into a psychological tailspin possibly beyond

repair. These are human beings, after all, not high-paid robots.

But was the victory worth it? At what point do you finally say, “We need to

lose a game, because we are totally out-of-sync, lucky beyond belief, and

so distracted by the national attention that we’re actually playing

poorly?” Well, I, for one, am glad that it’s over. The Athletics have had a

roller-coaster season which would give even the most iron stomach indigestion.

Saturday at the “homerdome” the only guy who went deep was Mark Mulder, who

pitched eight brilliant innings to get the A’s a much-needed win,

especially in light of what transpired in the ninth inning last Sunday.

While his alma mater was thrashing Rice on the gridiron, the former

Michigan State star dispatched the Twins in, well, spartan fashion. And

just as importantly, he kept the team loose, at one point turning to Mark

Ellis and laughing after three infield hits loaded the bases.

Sunday’s victory was seen by the whole country, that is, everyone who has

ESPN2. Barry Zito has apparently shrugged off those “dizzy spells” and is

dealing with confidence. Back-to-back shutouts. And last night’s game

featured a great defensive effort by the A’s, especially Miguel. If anyone

would like to argue about who the best defensive shortstop in baseball is,

consider this: Take every error Tejada has made (20) and best-guess how

many runs/losses he has cost the A’s. Then take how many remarkable and

brilliant plays he has made and estimate how many runs/wins he has saved.

Case closed…

Just another, non-baseball note. The men’s final of the U.S. Open just

concluded, and it is fitting, as we approach the anniversary of 9/11, that

the greatest tennis tournament in the world (no apology to that overblown

event in England every June) came down to four Americans—the Williams’

sisters, perhaps the two best women players of all time, and Pete Sampras

and Andre Agassi, the two greatest champions of this era, in the twilight

of their careers who gave us a thrill one more time. The U.S. Open had just

ended last year before host city New York was shaken, and this year’s

developments are welcome and symbolic.

The storm outside has abated, and a light cleansing rain is falling,

cooling the desert air. The A’s streak is gone but not forgotten–a new one

is underway. A few months from now we will be able to reflect on those

magical three weeks, and remember with pride the special moments, most

notably Miguel’s amazing walkoff homer off of Vacaville’s Eddie Guardado.

Regardless of what happens from here on out, that group of young men has

captured our attention, our interest, and our hearts. For that we should be

grateful. And now, let the thunder roll…

* this column originally appeared on www.oaklandfans.com