saturday at "mass": where intentionally walking a dude in his eighth at-bat happens

After getting the happy "Hosmer's here!" text from my buddy Heath on Thursday, we agreed that we'd hit up Saturday's game to witness Hosmania for ourselves. (We both had other plans last night for the debut).

(Also, since I've taken to calling trips to One Kauffman Way "Mass", should it be "Hosmanah in the Highest"? We just got through Lent, I think that works too. Hosmanah in the Highest. (sgt. hunter voice) It works for me.)

And I have to say, after sitting through one of the fastest games I've ever attended in my life ... holy God. In the words of the great Mr. Hugh M. Hefner, "we're seeing something here that's really special!"

I've been going to games in that stadium since ... well, for a long time. I joke that I "grew up" in left field GA, but honestly, that's not much of a joke -- me, Gregg and Jasson were out there pretty much every chance we got in high school and college. (That's 1992-1999 for those keeping score at home). Prior to that, it was heading out there every Sunday after Mass with dad and our buddies Trent and Ryan and their dad. Throw in going throughout the early 2000s with my late buddy James, and into the "modern era" with DJ and crew, or my brother and crew, or both, well -- suffice it to say, I've been to my fair share of games out there.

Saturday night, I saw two things I have rarely, if ever, in twenty five years of following this team, of living and dying on each pitch (at times, and usually dying), two things I have rarely if ever seen, were there for anyone to see:

(1) hope. And
(2) a future.

(Which leaves one big question ... that I'm not going to answer. At least not directly at this time. In fact, I'll leave it for the last paragraph of this post, and let you, the reader, chime in in the comments column (if you so choose) your thoughts on the "elephant in the room". But on said "elephant", consider me "cautiously optimistic" ...)

For so long, we've been used to everyone fleeing this team, or worse yet, seeing a promising career derailed by injuries, that eventually you just give up. I kind of talked about this in my season predictions, but be honest -- at a certain point, you reach a breaking point. Sure, you still go to games, because it's what you've always done, and hey, maybe some great player is in town for the other team, or their stud pitcher is pitching, so you talk yourself into it. Rarely, if ever, do you actually go because you expect great things from the Boyz N Blue.

I'm here to say folks, that it's time to expect greatness. Heath and I were joking all game about "the old Royals" -- like when Hosmer and Jeff Francouer crashed into each other in the top of the fifth chasing a pop foul, I held my breath. Thankfully, both players were fine. But it led to this exchange ...

(steve) (crosses himself)
(steve) you know, the old Royals, Hosmer blows out his knee there.
(heath) yup. Or Francouer hits him in the face with his throw to the pitcher and breaks his jaw.

When you witness two decades of sh*tty baseball, you get used to failure. You expect the disasterous to occur. Even the one shining season in this seventeen year stretch of stench, the 2003 Royals, you can argue the season effectively died the Sunday after the All Star Break, when Runelvys Hernandez blew out his arm in the sixth inning of a game against the Mariners. That afternoon saw many amazing things -- Beltran scaling the wall to save the tie in the eighth, Jason Grimsley pitching out of a bases loaded no outs mess he inherited in the tenth with no damage to the scoreboard, and Beltran winning it with a homer in the eleventh. But these were the Royals. Of COURSE our ace blew out his arm in the one season we actually had the need for an ace.

Tonight, the "ace" of the 2011 rotation took the mound, and for four innings was perfect. In fact, the first four innings of tonight's contest were finished in 40 minutes. I joked with Heath that "at this pace, we'll be home by halftime (of Boston / Miami). Hochevar was absolutely spectacular for seven innings. He took the mound in the top of the eighth with a 3-0 lead. Ned Yost (correctly) had Aaron Crow, who hadn't given up a run yet this season, warming up in the bullpen. If ANYONE reached base, Crow was coming in. This is what smartly run clubs do (and God knows NOBODY has accused the Royals of being "smartly run" in a long time) -- they plan for the worst. Hochevar wasn't even at 90 pitches yet. (It wasn't even 7:45 yet, and we were in the top of the eighth. Let's just say, he was DOMINATING the A's lineup). But Yost knew he should hedge his bets, have his best reliever (so far) ready to step in.

The first hitter reached. Yost promptly came out and called for Crow. The eighth hitter was due up. There was no reason for concern. No cause for panic.

Except for one little thing. It's the Royals.

The first hitter to face Crow, hit a shot up the middle that was so hard and fast, Escobar had not shot at it. Then lightweight SS Clint Pennington entered the batter's box. Sporting a batting average around the Mendoza line, and he's the ninth hitter. There's no wind to speak of (seriously, how can you ask for a better day than today was? Finally, "t-shirt optional" weather conditions!!!). Pennington promptly smashes, and I mean smashes, Crow's second pitch into the A's bullpen. We're tied. And the next hitter doubles off the wall. Ay yay yay, only the Royals. Only the Royals could blow this game.

Yet somehow, Crow got out of it, leaving a runner stranded at third. Chris Getz opens the bottom of the eighth with a deep shot to right field (where we were sitting). High! Deep! Caught! by David DeJesus up against the fence. (Gotta give credit where it's due, that was one of the coolest catches up close I've ever seen). Again though, it's the Royals. Of course that ball was four inches shy of reaching the bullpen. To the top of the ninth we go. Heath turned to me and noted "if nothing else, Hosmer has a chance to be the hero". (He was due up third in the bottom of the ninth).

And it's at this point, as Joakim Soria enters the game, as I process Heath's comment, that I start thinking "wait a second, these AREN'T the same old Royals". We have the best pitcher in the ballpark on our team. We have the manager who didn't make an incredible brain fart that in my mind, was a fireable offense (more on this in a moment). And best of all, we didn't have the player that committed the brain fart of a lifetime, and cost his team the lead moments earlier.

Because that hitter who doubled off Crow to follow up Pennington's home run? (Had to look it up, it was Coco Crisp). Somehow did not advance to third base on a dribbler down the first base line! Not only that, both Heath and I looked at each other after Crow threw him out with a "he nearly threw to the wrong base!" look of horror. (Crow had no clue where to throw the ball).

Now, in Crow's defense, he assumed Crisp would be speeding for third as fast as he could. Crisp never moved. He just stood there on second base. The next hitter hit a towering shot to center that I could have scored from third base on, it was that deep. (And I ain't setting any speed records anytime soon). The final hitter struck out. Oakland should have had a 4-3 lead. Instead it's tied.

And after Soria made quick work of the A's in the ninth, well, the little team that could, did it again. Butler led off with a bloop single into right field. I immediately turned to Heath and said "bring in Dyson to run" and before he could even argue that point, I noted "Betemit can now DH". Sure as sh*t, there's Dyson reaching first base before I could turn back around. (I love it, I mean, I freaking LOVE it, when the coach of my team and I are in sync. Let's just say, it doesn't happen very often). Dyson's running on the second pitch, and Francouer drives it into left field. Dyson easily reaches third.

(Another cool thing I noted, at least cool to me? How awesome is it that we know, if we just get a guy on first in the late innings, needing a run, he's guaran-f*cking-teed to reach second regardless of what the guy at the plate does? Jarrod Dyson is incredible. He only does one thing well -- run. I guarantee you, we're going to win at least five games this year that are tossups at best because Dyson steals second base in the late innings. To say nothing of stealing third.)

And up to the plate, steps the hope of today, the hope of tomorrow, the most bona-fide stud this team has had in the lineup since Carlos Beltran was in center field. 1st and 3rd, nobody out, a rookie in his second game reaching the plate.

The A's manager strolls out to the mound. Amazingly, it is only NOW that he has someone warming up in the bullpen. The A's starter took the mound in the ninth inning with NOBODY warming up! (We confirmed this through Darryl our usher, that yup, NOBODY was warming up. An INCREDIBLE brain fart that, if I was the A's GM, I would consider firing a manager over. When Bob Geren is sh*t canned, and I'm guessing it won't be long from now, all Billy Beane has to do is point to this game, and that spot, and say "Bob, sorry, you're a f*cking retard. Confident and classy possibly, but f*cking retarded".)

The end result of the conference on the mound? The A's intentionally walk Hosmer. I have seen a lot of strange sh*t in my day, but intentionally walking a rookie in that spot? Unreal. I honestly thought the A's would do the "unintentional intentional walk" routine, throw four awful pitches and hope Hosmer swung and missed at a few of them. (It's the Royals, of COURSE we'd swing and miss at them, right?) Instead, in the ultimate show of respect, the A's intentionally walk a guy who in his seven at-bats at the major league level to that point, had walked three times, struck out three times, and singled to right field.

And it is at this point, that the entire atmosphere in the ballpark changed. I'm telling you, someday, we're going to look back on this intentional walk as the moment the Royals went from a joke of a franchise, to something to be feared. Let this sink in. A player on the Royals is intimidating enough, after only SEVEN AT BATS at the major league level (only four of which "counted"), that a team intentionally walks him rather than face him! Ever since Bo Jackson blew out his hip in that playoff game against the Bengals, the Royals have not had ANYONE that fit that definition. The definition of "Do NOT pitch to this guy with the game on the line, period". Beltran fit it at times, but let's be honest, Beltran probably would have grounded to third in that spot, caused Dyson to get thrown out at the plate, and Beltran would have been out at first because he loafed it for the 90 feet he had to run. (And I say this as his biggest fan, but yes, the guy's a loafer. That's not a good thing.)

For the first time in 20 years, the Royals have "that guy". And if you think I'm crazy, you should have seen the reaction after Mike Aviles lifted a fly ball to left that everyone knew Jarrod Dyson would have no trouble scoring on. Nobody left. Sure, after a walk off win, folks stand around for a couple seconds cheering and celebrating, but within 10, 15 seconds, the aisles are flooded. Nope, nobody left. Everyone stuck around because they could see that Joel Goldberg had grabbed Hosmer (and Aviles) for the postgame interview. Everyone wanted to see it. And once Aviles was done talking, when Goldberg turned to interview Eric Hosmer, that place went nuts.

The last time I recall a situation like that occurring in this town, was November 16, 1997, a day I will take to my grave with a smile and fond memory. As Pete Stoyanovich, from 54 yards out, into a stiff biting wind, somehow, someway, got a wounded duck of a kick to barely, and I mean barely, get over the crossbar in the east end zone. Nobody left early that day either. It's the only time I can ever recall the postgame sound guys breaking in and carrying the postgame interview with the "hero" of the game. We all remember the soundbite:

(jim gray) do you think this kick might have saved the Chiefs season?
(pete) I don't think it saved the season, because I don't think the season needed to be saved. We'll just keep rolling from here and see where it goes.
(jim gray) thanks, Pete.
(andre rison) I love you man! (huge bear hug)

And with that, Arrowhead exploded into celebration. I got the same goose bumps tonight as when Dick Enberg rejoined the broadcast with "I love you man, something these 78,000 who still haven't left are feeling right now".

I couldn't tell you much of what Hosmer had to say, because the cheering was so loud you couldn't hear the damned sound. But when Goldberg asked how it felt to get that first major league hit, the kid paused and teared up. You can see how much he wants this, how much he wants to succeed, how much he wants to be "the franchise". You could also see how angry he was that the A's wouldn't pitch to him. He said all the right things, about how he knew Aviles would come through, about how anything hit to the outfield would score Dyson. But you could see it in his eyes. He was p*ssed that he didn't get the shot to win the game.

When, fellow Royals fans, was the last time we had a guy who cared that much in our lineup? When was the last time anyone who played for this team was angry that he didn't get to take his shot at glory?

Look it, nobody reads more into one win or one loss than me. It's part of being a biased homer. You overreact each way. But what I saw out there tonight, was 25,283 people who, for the first time in twenty years, not only have a reason to hope, but we've seen the future. And the future is going to be something really special.

God bless it I wish I could go tomorrow. Stupid family obligations. OK, not stupid, it is Mother's Day. But man, after you witness a night like tonight, you want more of it. You want a sh*t ton more of it.

Thursday, with one move, the Royals signaled that the franchise had changed forever. Finances be damned. Tonight, with one move, the A's signaled that indeed, the Royals franchise has changed forever, and for once, in a positive way. Because we have "the guy". We have our stud. We have hope. And we definitely have a future.

A future so bright, that I noticed leaving the park tonight a sign in the window of the merchandise shop in the outfield. It simply said "Eric Hosmer t-shirts and jerseys available starting May 16". And I thought to myself, "Myself, when was the last time ANY potential prospect had KC this fired up?" And then I thought to myself, "Myself, he's not a prospect any more. He's the present".

Now all we gotta figure out is, how great is the present going to be? Based on tonight, the sky's the friggin limit ...