Some Nights Are Like That

It was Fernando Tatis Jr. vs. the New York Mets, and it was no contest.

Zac Thornton‘s first pitch of the game was met with about as perfect a swing as I’ve seen from a baseball player, and the ball came down on the moon.

In the bottom of the second, the Mets scratched and clawed against Robbie Ray, who spent the whole night looking like he was on the verge of getting chased from the game. With the bases loaded and two out, Francisco Lindor collected, sending a ball just over the fence in the right-field corner — a ball Tatis jumped for but seemed to miss, only to come down on his feet, wait a perfectly timed beat and then flash the pearl he’d found. It only mildly galls me to admit it looked extremely cool.

In the fifth, Tatis connected against Thornton again — this time for a conventional-distance homer to right-center, with a man on.

So that’s one player responsible for a seven-run swing, which was enough to snap the Mets’ losing streak and their newly acquired air of invulnerability. Had more been required from Tatis to single-handedly vanquish the Mets, I’ve no doubt he would have been equal to the task.

Further analysis would be the stuff of shrugs; regarding the rest, we were watching in a hotel restaurant without sound, which unfortunately turned both the Howie Rose-Gary Cohen booth reunion and Steve Gelbs’ visit with returning hero Jose Iglesias into pantomimes.

Some nights aren’t going to go your way. You’re the Washington Generals, the hapless foil, the designated opponent, the straight man. The other guy is Fernando Tatis Jr., and you’re not.