I tend to cry about the oddest things. Sick puppies dying in a little girl’s arms? Nothing. The HAL 9000 computer asking Dr. Chandra “Will I dream?” before being left for certain destruction at the end of (the otherwise disappointing) 2010 ? Bawling like a baby.
One event that always gets me blubbering is the final pitch and celebration at the end of a perfect game — all 27 batters retired in succession — in baseball.
I’ve never seen one live — there have only been fifteen such games since 1900 — but the tear-jerking moments from several famous ones have often been replayed. The most famous (and unlikely) one was Don Larsen’s in the 5th game of the 1956 World Series. Watching footage of pinch-hitter Dale Mitchell lazily swing at strike three and Yogi Berra leaping into the arms of the stunned Larsen gets me sobbing everytime I see it.
Baseball is the only major sport with something like the perfect game. In track-and-field, someone’s always going to break a record. In football, the other team is always going to gain some yardage. There’s never even been a shutout in pro basketball. The perfect game in baseball in an unsurpassable accomplishment; a pitcher cannot pitch a better game. To see a pitcher’s reaction after the last out of such a game is to witness the greatest moment in someone’s life.
But more than that, it’s witnessing someone experiencing something that can be absolutely defined as his greatest moment. How many of us have that? Getting a good performance review at work? Getting a raise? Scoring with that hot barista? There’s always something more. But a perfect game? By definition, nothing in baseball can be better. Not only will we never know what hitting that peak feels like; we will never even know what it’s like to participate in an activity wherein such a peak is defined.
So that’s why I cry.
