One of my favorite things about sports, especially baseball, is the fact that a good game is like a good book. You have a reasonable expectation for the outcome based on what you know about the people or characters involved, and then, a few unexpected twists and turns--in addition to adherence to the structure laid forth--you reach the conclusion with a satisfying resolution, even if the outcome isn't what you were pulling for.
Last night, at the Sox game, we saw lot of what one might expect: good pitching, fundamental defense and a few very good plays, and a couple of slight momentum shifts not unlike the action in a good book. In the ninth inning, it seemed a done deal. One of the Sox's most reliable pitchers came on to close out a 2-1 victory--except that didn't happen. A runner reached base, and then an eight-pitch at-bat ensued, one foul ball after another. Once the batter struck out, victory was in hand, no? Instead, the weakest hitter on the opposing team managed to take a splitter that didn't split and deposit it improbably into the left-centerfield stands. A sure victory for the South Siders was turned into a likely defeat.
Of course, when the evening ends with a spectacular fireworks display (more an epilogue than the story's conclusion) against the backdrop of a warm mid-August evening sky, one can feel satisfied that the ride was enjoyable, even if the hero didn't get the girl.
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