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Fans cheering Matthew Boyd on.
I was running around Sunday afternoon, first to the Fisher Building for a book signing for former Free Press reporter and local historian Dan Austin, who just published a book with pictures of historic postcards titled: Greetings From Detroit. (Yes, it's worth buying).
I then headed to Comerica Park and bought a ticket for $10. By then, it was the bottom of the eighth and the Tigers were piling on the runs. I looked up at the scoreboard and noticed the White Sox had no hits. I knew Matthew Boyd was the starter.
I asked one of the veteran, white-haired ushers if Boyd was still pitching. "Yep, he's got a no-no (no hitter) going." He was pumped.
A fan standing next to me with his daughter said he'd never been to a game in his lifetime and seen a no-hitter. He was excited.
The crowd was abuzz. It was about 80 degrees. The sun was beaming. There was excitement in the air. It felt as if the Tigers were playoff-bound.
Teammates congratulated Boyd on the one-hitter.
Then with the Tigers leading 12-0, Boyd took the mound in the bottom of the ninth.
First came an infield pop up. One out. Then a grounder to second. Two outs.
It felt like the Tigers were World Series-bound. Fans were standing. Cheering.
Then Boyd fell behind Tim Anderson 2-0. Then Anderson belted a slider to the wall for a double.
Ouch.
There was a collective sigh of disappointment. Then people quickly recovered and gave Boyd a big round of applause.
Boyd hung in there to get the final out for a one-hitter.
Afterward, players lined up and gave him hugs and handshakes.
The magic of it all was that fans embraced the moment with true passion and forgot what a disastrous season it has been.
Sometimes baseball really is magical.
