KANSAS CITY, Mo. — We must be careful when we speak of sports and miracles, because they don’t happen as often as we would like, and they don’t happen as often as we think they do.
It was God Himself, after all, disguised as George Burns, who let John Denver in on a secret: “My last miracle was the ’69 Mets.” Of course, that movie came out in 1977, and what God didn’t tell Denver (or anyone else) was that he had something even more remarkable planned for three years down the road, in a hockey arena in Lake Placid, N.Y.
Here’s something else about sporting miracles:
The people who perpetrate them don’t really want to be associated with them. Tom Seaver made this abundantly clear a few years ago when we were walking inside the Mets’ museum at Citi Field, after he had blinked away a tear looking at a photograph of Gil Hodges.
“I understand why we were called the ‘Miracle Mets,’ I do,” said Seaver, whose 25-7 record that year went a long way toward making that miracle come true.
“I understand why people got caught up in what we did. We had been a horrid franchise, and suddenly we weren’t. But we also had a guy who won 25 games. We had a guy [Cleon Jones] who hit .340. We had one of the best catchers in the game [Jerry Grote], and a great, great manager. And by the way? We won a hundred games!”
He smiled, shook his head.
“The ’73 team, that got to Game 7 winning 82? That was a miracle. We had a hell of a team in ’69. We played eight postseason games and won seven of them. To call it a miracle is to say we were a fluke, and I’ll be damned if anyone will tell me what we did in ’69 was a fluke.”
That’s where the Royals find themselves now, in many ways. Part of that is because it has been 29 years since they appeared in the postseason, even as the postseason in that time has expanded from four participants to 10 every year. Part is because they haven’t been especially competitive across the last 20 of those years. Part of it is because they spent some time this year in last place in the AL Central.
And yes: part of it is because they were trailing by four runs with six outs to go in the wild-card game last week, because they entered Sunday night’s Game 3 of their ALDS with the Angels having won back-to-back extra-inning games. They have emerged as America’s Team, the little nine that could, Hickory High in long pants.
And they have embraced all that. Sort of.
“We know how good we are,” said first baseman Eric Hosmer, who hit the game-winning home run Friday night. “We know what we’re capable of. Our fans know. We’ve gone though a lot together and we have so much more we want to accomplish together.”
Said Ned Yost, the often second-guessed and occasionally beleaguered manager: “We’ve been fortunate. But that’s different than lucky.”
He makes a terrific point. The Royals didn’t overcome that 7-3 wild-card hole against Jon Lester and the Athletics because they had a ball bounce over an outfielder’s head or through an infielder’s legs. They simply ground away, three in the eighth and one in the ninth, then two in the 12th after the A’s had snuck back ahead. That isn’t luck. That’s grit.
Are they lucky that the Angels’ Mike Trout, Albert Pujols and Josh Hamilton had one hit between them in the series’ first two games? Maybe. Or maybe they were simply fortunate that a gaggle of their own pitchers, starters and relievers, proven players and green rookies, threw good pitches when they needed to?
“Luck happens in the movies,” Seaver said a few years ago, “not on baseball fields. Luck is Roy Hobbs knocking out a light tower.”
Around here, the locals don’t much care what you call it, as long as it lasts for a while longer. The players who now occupy their attention? Don’t tell them this run has been a fluke.
