It took a second for it to register, no matter where you were. At American Family Field, the party had already begun, 41,594 long-suffering Brewers fans already setting aside a three-hour TV bloc for Saturday afternoon, live from Philadelphia. In the lower bowl at Citi Field, 896 miles away, a watch party stood sentry in silence, hoping for a miracle.
In a million homes, people pulled on rally caps, fastened themselves into uncomfortable positions on the couch, anything to pull an inside straight.
And off the bat, it didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem real. In Milwaukee, they were still roaring. In Flushing, they were still praying. You? Maybe you saw Pete Alonso’s reaction as soon as he made contact and — OMG — it looked like he knew something. A smile started to form, an arm started to raise.
And by the time the ball landed over the right-field fence, amid a gaggle of arms that wanted no part of catching it, 367 feet away, suddenly up was down and inside was out. American Family Field was overrun by an aching quiet. Citi Field was New Year’s Eve.
With one forever swing of his bat, Alonso had turned 0-2 down into 3-2 up. He had somehow warded off the winter and guaranteed at least five more days of summer. He’d gone all Roy Hobbs, is what he did, even if he spared the light towers. You could almost hear the music.
“I’m just happy,” Alonso would say, a few minutes after this 4-2 clincher was over, after the Mets punched a most unlikely ticket to Philly, for what promises to be a fascinating N.L. Division Series, “that I came through for the boys.”
He came through for them all right, and you could see the 10,000-pound anvil fall from his shoulders as he took the 360-foot trot around the basepaths. The boys had been having a blast the past few days, and it seemed everyone had lent a hand to the cause except for the first baseman.
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