Tuesday, October 05, 1999
Reds just ran out of magic
BY PAUL DAUGHERTY
The Cincinnati Enquirer
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Fans hoped for one more win from the overachieving Reds, but it wasn't to be.
(Michael E. Keating photo)
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No game today. No comebacks, no dramatics, no happy home-run calls from the radio booth. Magic comes with an expiration date. Take your good memories into the cool autumn night, and remember the baseball summer of '99 was better than anyone could have dreamed.
One game. One stinking game, on a drippy, Edgar Allan Poe evening, kept the Reds from a playoff opener in Atlanta today. The season that was too good to be true ultimately was just that. The New York Mets came to Cincinnati in the 163rd game of the year, and did a job on the Reds.
No runs, two hits, no excuses for Cincinnati. The Reds had no answers for Mets' starting pitcher Al Leiter. Their pitchers didn't throw enough strikes to keep New York's lineup still.
Maybe Cincinnati's youth, which carried them all summer, wasn't ready for the do-or-die heat on a cold October night.
Whatever, the Mets won, 5-0, and summer officially ended.
“It's not disappointing, to tell you the truth,” Sean Casey said. “How could you be disappointed about this year, you know?”
Said Dmitri Young, “I wouldn't take a day back. Not one day. A lot of character was built in this room this year.”
The sellout-plus crowd of 54,621 came early and stayed late and was crazy in between. Anticipating the customary magic, getting none.
When Young's line drive landed in Edgardo Alfonzo's glove for the last out, and the Mets spilled in celebration onto the field, the crowd didn't leave right away, as if they couldn't believe it was over.
And then the most magical thing happened. Greg Vaughn emerged from the dugout to toss hats into the crowd.
Casey came out to roars. Above the noise, you could almost hear him yelling. “Thank you,” Casey said to the fans.
“Kind of an instinct,” was Casey's explanation. “We appreciate their support. Eight months is a long time for (fans) to be following the box scores.”
Eddie Taubensee came out to high-five the grounds crew.
The season ended on a downer. But only on the scoreboard.
Leiter, an average left-hander with a perfectly average 12-12 record, allowed the Reds only Jeffrey Hammonds' second-inning single through the first eight innings.
Meanwhile, the Mets wasted no time establishing their intentions. They were choking last week. That was last week. In the first inning, Edgardo Alfonzo drilled a statement-making two-run homer to dead center field. The blast cleared the wall by several feet, making it 2-0 before the game was five minutes old.
The Mets added to their lead after that, inning by inning, a run at a time. The Cincinnati season leaked a little when Denny Neagle replaced starter Steve Parris in the third, in time to walk Robin Ventura with the bases loaded.
It dripped some more when Rickey Henderson homered to left leading off the fifth. Alfonzo doubled up the gap in left with two out in the sixth, to score Rey Ordonez, and it was 5-0 and starting to pour.
Usually you get what you pay for in baseball. Occasionally, happily, you get more. The '99 Reds were Christmas in July. And August. And September. All the way to Monday night.
You do not spend $33 million on payroll and expect to do anything but fill up the summer. Anything beyond that is a bonus. Small Market Nation sighed with the result. The wonder is not if the Reds will duplicate '99 in '00; they won't.
Chemistry and camaraderie can't be had on the open market, no matter the millions. The Reds may be as good next year. They won't be as special. They'll never pass this way again.
“That's what's hitting home right now,” Taubensee said. As he spoke, the clubhouse echoed in hugs and hard slaps on the back. It had the feel of a college graduation, steeped in the notion that this season was a sweet moment, and now it is gone.
“It's not just losing this game,” Taubensee said, “but losing this team.”
The Reds were a team of destiny, but that was a week ago. Destiny has moved on to New York, where the left-for-dead Mets have risen so quickly, Stephen King is writing a book on their season.
The season is over. Without regrets, though. No regrets at all.
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