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Legend of the fall Yanks' Witasick provides relief ... for the Diamondbacks
PHOENIX -- Years from now, when I am old and gray and drooling strained peas down my Mork & Mindy bib, I will proudly tell my grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the strange, sad, fascinating days of fall 2001. Of history. I will tell them about a man who -- single-handedly -- saved our collective souls. Whose acts of courage and honor lifted America from its prolonged depression. He was a man, I will say, with a pure heart and an invisible ego. A man who, despite his gaudy salary, went by the simple name of Jay. The faces will light up. "Oh Poppy," they'll say, "Another Jay Witasick story!" Indeed. I, along with 49,707 paying Bank One Ballpark customers, saw it with my own eyes. Never will we forget Nov. 3, 2001, the day the Yankees lost a World Series game 15-2 and Jay Witasick went from viable major league middle reliever to 100 percent, All-American mound curd. He allowed 10 hits and eight earned runs in 1 1/3 innings (a silky 54.00 ERA), but it's not about the numbers. It's about records. Unbreakable records. In 1912, Boston's Smokin' Joe Wood allowed the New York Giants a never-before-seen seven hits in an inning. Although very few newspaper reports remain, it is believed -- 27 years before Lou Gehrig plagiarized the phrase -- Wood was first to utter the words, "Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth." In 1911, George "Big Daddy Pimpin'" Wiltse of the New York Giants gave up a seemingly impossible six earned runs in a World Series inning to the Philadelphia Athletics. Again, few records exist. But in the deepest depths of the Baseball Hall of Fame library, there lives a torn photograph of Big Daddy Pimpin', tears of joy streaming down his cheeks, knowing his efforts would be remembered. In 1997, Cleveland's Orel Hershiser became the sixth pitcher to allow seven runs in a World Series game, joining Mordecai Brown, Danny Cox, Jack Morris and Andy Pettitte. Every year, at the VFW Lodge in Mahopac, N.Y., the five living men meet to celebrate their achievement over Dr. Peppers and Twinkies.
Farewell, Smokin' Joe. Au revoir, Big Daddy Pimpin'. The VFW is closed, fellas. Jay Witasick is now to herpes-like World Series pitching performances what Reggie Jackson is to World Series homers and Mariano Rivera to World Series saves. Indeed, the skunkish scent of anticipation permeated Bank One Ballpark's manufactured air as soon as, with two one and no out in the bottom of the third, the gates of the Yankee bullpen swung open and good ol' No. 45 trotted to the mound. Awaiting his star, Joe Torre's look said it all. "It's all good, fellas. Jay's here." Everything Jay did was unbelievable. New York trailed 4-0 when he entered the game, but only 13-0 when he left. The first batter he faced, Reggie Sanders, hit a fastball for a single and an RBI. 5-0. The second batter he faced, Jay Bell, hit a fastball for a single and an RBI. 6-0. The third batter he faced, Damian Miller, hit a fastball for a single to load the bases. The fourth batter he faced, Randy friggin' Johnson, hit a fastball for a single and an RBI. 7-0. Unfortunately, with Detroit right-hander Ed Summers' 93-year-old World Series mark for consecutive hits allowed in an inning in sight, Witasick choked. He threw two fastballs and a curve past Tony Womack for the strikeout. Alas, there's always next year. There was more. Danny Bautista singled to center for two RBIs. 9-0. Luis Gonzalez doubled down the left-field line, another RBI. 10-0. Greg Colbrunn singled to center for another RBI. 11-0. Matt Williams doubled off the center-field wall for another RBI. 12-0. When Sanders finally struck out on four pitches, ending the inning of all innings, there was an odd sense of communal disappointment. It was like the final moment of a really great party. Sure, Witasick pitched a piece of the following inning (he struck out two, allowed a single and a double), but it would never be the same. His moment of time had come and gone. It was all of humanity's moment, really. Following the game, as Tino Martinez and Alfonso Soriano and Mike Stanton and Shane Spencer politely fielded questions from the media hoard, Witasick hid in a back room, perhaps savoring the moment with silent reflection. When he finally emerged (36 minutes later), he smiled and answered the questions. Yes, he sucked like goat on a Ju Ju Bee. No, he wasn't humiliated. Yes, his curveball failed to exist. No, he is not secretly on the Diamondbacks' payroll. Yes, he's aware of the records ("After giving up seven runs, I sorta figured."). No, he won't retire to become a cave hermit. Yes, he'll show up for Sunday's Game 7. "Hopefully, I'll get the chance to pitch," he said. "That's the best thing after a day like this." Surely, Witasick knew this was impossible. What, after all, would we do if he pitched a perfect inning? Sports Illustrated baseball writer Jeff Pearlman will contribute regularly to CNNSI.com throughout the playoffs.
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