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Mathematically representing intangibles

My primary language is mathematics. I live, breath, and think through mathematical expressions. And it was in the late 1970s that I realized baseball, which I had followed since the early 70s, could be beautifully represented by mathematical expressions. And while I enjoy using mathematics to learn new connections and potential outcomes, the reason I enjoy baseball is because of the passion, tension, and the emotional highs and lows it brings to me as a human being. With that intro…

The most memorable game I ever experienced occurred at The Trop. Not being from the Tampa Bay area, I never see the Rays in person. So, in the summer of 2013, I chose to take a 10-day holiday to St. Pete during a Rays homestand against the Orioles, Red Sox and the Royals. (It was the homestand that Alex Cobb was hit in the head by a line drive – something I will never forget, especially that sound.)

On June 10 of that homestand, the Rays faced the Red Sox. At every game, I made sure that I was at the doors of the stadium the moment they opened. This was a couple hours before the game started. This way I could maximize the amount of personal "Rays time." For this game, the fourth in the homestand, my ticket was somewhere in the upper deck. To maximize my Rays time, I decided before the game to sit down in the area just behind the Rays dugout, just to watch what was happening. After some time, a woman came up to me and said, "Excuse me, you are in my seat." I apologized, moved over a few seats. Since she appeared to be friendly, I started talking to her, explaining who I was, why I was in St. Pete and why I was sitting in her seat. We talked for some time. She was pleasant, smart and knew the Rays well. At some point she said, "Listen, my friend will not be joining me tonight. You appear to be a serious Rays fan, so please sit with me." The seats were 3 rows back from the dugout, between home plate and first base. At Dodger stadium, such a seat is $300-$400 per night. I said yes of course.

The game started badly for the Rays. The first eight Sox batters walked, singled or doubled before an out was recorded. By the end of the top half of the 1st inning, the Sox had scored 6 runs. Going into the game, the Red Sox were leading the division with the Rays only a few games behind. This was an important game. Down 6 runs, I thought, "Oh well, I’ll just enjoy the novelty of sitting in such great seats." My new friend was a physician, hence we talked about our professions since we both had worked with medical students. I remember we got along so well, I forgot to get my traditional two beers. As for the game, the Rays replied with 2 runs in the bottom of the 1st. Then another run in the 3rd, another in the 4th, and another in the 7th. Now the Rays were down 6 to 5. With two outs in the bottom of the 8th and Yunel Escobar on 2nd, my favorite player at the time, Ben Zobrist, came through and doubled Escobar home. Tie score! Pandemonium! We were screaming. The Sox didn’t score in the top of the 9th. In the bottom of the 9th, James Loney singled, but was stranded at first. Since the Red Sox hadn’t scored since the first, I felt confident Rays pitching would hold them enough to let the offense do its thing. But then disaster hit. With two on in the top of the 10th, Jarrod Saltamacchia singled to center. Desmond Jennings (remember his arm?) cleanly grabbed the ball and threw home. Both runners scored.

My new friend and I were devastated. An extra inning game with lots of excitement, but it looked like it was over since the bottom of the order for the Rays was coming up. First batter was Jose Lobaton. On the 4th pitch, he sliced an inside fastball to right field for a home run! Then Escobar and Matt Joyce each walked. Benny Z (again, my player) came up and hit a screaming line drive single. But he hit it too hard to score anyone, so the bases were now full with no outs and the Rays down one by. After six painfully difficult pitches to watch, Kelly Johnson walked to force in the tying run. Tie score! And there were still no outs with the bases loaded. The Trop was rocking (or at least that is what I remember.) We were all screaming as the face of the Rays, Evan Longoria, strolled to the plate. There was no doubt, Longo was going to end it now and allow us to enjoy a delicious come-back win against the dreaded Red Sox and their arrogance.

Maybe it was inevitable or maybe it was just bad luck for the night, but on an 0-2 pitch, Longo hit into a 5 – 2 – 3 double play. Runner out at home, Longo out at first. All I remember was the emotional collapse. How could Longo – the great Longo – not only not deliver, but basically end the rally with no one out? I don’t really remember Sam Fuld’s failed attempt at a bunt single which ended the inning. And while the game was now tied with more baseball to play, to my friend and I, it should have been over.

The rest of the game consisted of not much offensive action for both teams for several innings. I remember that during the top of the 14th, there were so few of us left, people from the upper decks were now sitting just behind us. It felt like the environment of our local single A league team. One of the fans called out to David Ortiz standing on first, (Ortiz had been intentionally walked), asking him if he was tired. Ortiz made a "I need to go to sleep" gesture. We laughed. In the past I had been fortunate enough to be able to sit within conversation distance of the dugout, to look the manager of a MLB team directly in the eye during a game, and yet at the Trop, I never felt closer to the game nor to the players. Nor did I ever felt closer to the intensity of these remarkable athletes who appeared to truly want to beat the opposing team, not for the win, but because of who they were. The game possessed playoff intensity with the intimacy and familiarity of Little League. Unfortunately, that high stopped just after Ortiz had responded to us. Daniel Nava singled, and the Red Sox scored. Then Saltalamacchia singled and there was another score.

Could the Rays respond like they did in the 10th? We waited, we prayed (when it comes to baseball, atheist pray too.) But no. The Rays went quickly and quietly in the bottom of the inning. The Rays had lost and to the Red Sox no less. My new friend and I were depressed and both emotionally and physically drained. We were that close to winning. I suddenly realized my throat hurt from yelling so much.

After the last out, my friend offered me her companion’s ticket for the remaining games of the homestand. She said her friend was not in town. We walked to her car to pick up the tickets. I thanked her profusely and offered to buy her food at the next game. She declined. I suspect that to her, the shared experience of that night was enough payback for her generosity. It may surprise you that I don’t remember as much about the remaining games even though the Rays thrashed the Red Sox the following night, 8 to 3. One might think as a Rays fan, that would be the most memorable game, but it wasn’t. And I couldn’t tell you what my friend and I talked about during the subsequent games. No night provided the extreme emotional response that I had experienced during that extra inning game loss to the Red Sox.

And so, while I still love to speak in numbers, to look for mathematical connections between what appear to be random numbers that are generated each game and to seek insights beyond, "he looked good on that play", in the end for me, the best qualities of baseball is viewing it as an emotional human endeavor. It is something that I cannot mathematically represent. And that is what I think about when I tell others about the most memorable game I ever experienced.

This post was written by a member of the DRaysBay community and does not necessarily express the views or opinions of DRaysBay staff.