"Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast" -Oscar Wilde |
"The liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth, shall be watered also himself." -- Proverbs 11:25 |
even pitching just 5-1/3 last night, Maine gave the Mets as big a start last night as Seaver or Koosman or Gooden or anybody ever gave them in any postseason. Maine pitched like those guys last night. It wasn't a complete game, it doesn't go into the books as a "quality start" because he didn't go six, it wasn't Bobby Jones throwing that one-hitter against the Giants the last time the Mets went to the World Series. It will do. Two hits while he was out there. No runs against him on a night when there were no expectations for the kid at all.
Oh yeah. What he did to the Cardinals in Game 6 will do.
Baseball is such a wonderfully unpredictable game. I tell you the Mets’ chances of staying alive in their league playoff series against St. Louis depend on their rookie pitcher, John Maine, and you say no way, no chance. Remember, buddy, he’s pitching against Chris Carpenter, a once and maybe future Cy Young award winner.
The likelihood of Maine’s beating Carpenter, you tell me, is about 1 chance in 100. I tell you, as Joaquín Andújar used to say, you never know.
We know now. The game is over. The rookie beat Cy Young. The Mets live to play another day. Well, night. Tonight. The National League pennant will be decided at Shea Stadium tonight.
[snip]
Maine, it should be remembered, was Anna Benson’s goodbye gift to the Mets. He joined the Mets last winter in the trade that sent Anna’s husband, Kris, to the Baltimore Orioles. The Mets traded Benson because Anna had become too much of a loose verbal cannon. The Mets, however, are unlikely to send Anna a World Series share.
A 25-year-old right-hander, Maine pitched five and a third innings, allowing only two first-inning hits. He walked four batters and hit a batter, but only one of those five advanced beyond first base.
After Maine walked Jim Edmonds, the leadoff batter in the sixth, and retired Juan Encarnación on a fly to left field, Manager Willie Randolph walked briskly to the mound and summoned Chad Bradford from the bullpen.
Even before Randolph reached the mound, Maine’s infield mates gathered there and patted him, expressing their appreciation for the job he had just done. After handing the ball to Randolph, he walked to the dugout to the roar of the crowd. When he reached the dugout, his teammates there slapped hands with him and gave him many more pats of appreciation.
On this night, the rookie became a man.
You don't see masterpieces like this in October very often, not when the season is on the line and greater New York is living and dying with your every pitch. John Maine could've collapsed under the burden, and no one would've blamed the rookie. No one would've said the Mets went out of the NL Championship Series as chokers.
But all Maine did was keep the Mets alive in October, pitching them to a 4-2 win over the Cardinals in Game 6. The Series, the season, the world comes down to nine innings tonight; every pitch will be treated as if the Mets' legacy depends on it. And it does.
Maine gave the Mets a running start to the sort of comeback that'll be remembered by generations of Shea loyalists. It might not have been Johnny Podres shutting out the Yankees in Game 7 of the 1955 World Series, the one that liberated Brooklyn forever, but it was close enough to be called a miniature classic.
[snip]
Was Maine nervous? Do we even have to ask? He said "I'm nervous before every start," but an early lead, and successfully working out of a bases-loaded jam in the first inning help quiet the fires of his anxiety.
It's the beauty of this kid that he's so quiet, so self-contained. Maine is the anti-Pedro Martinez, flat-lining his emotions, letting his fastball act as his voice.
"That's been his MO all year," Randolph said. "Cool and composed. That's him."
It also helped the Mets to be playing in an open-air asylum. Shea was that loud, that aggressive. The sold-out crowd did more than just root for the Mets, they exuded a hostile edge that made the Cardinals shrink, one inning at a time.