Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Those moments that leave you
It was such a perfect moment. One that I would tell people about. One that I would be able to hold and carry with me through time. An extra-inning game. Amazing pitching. Strong defense. Frankie at his best and worst. Scrappiness and grit nudging open the door of opportunity, and then Vlad busting it wide open, his legend all but complete. The crowd on it's feet, strangers hugging. #300 being willed into existence by the player and the crowd in dramatic fashion.
Too bad the moment existed only in my mind. I could see it, it was real, my camera was poised and focused on the shot. It had all the details of a real moment, but it hadn't happened yet. Vlad was at-bat, still alive, the moment still alive, the crowd was on it's feet. Yes there was clapping and cheering, and the restless energy of thousands of people who had brought their passion and focused it on this field and now, on this man. And it all seemed so inevitable. I had basically taken the picture, written the headline. I couldn't have been alone.
And then it was over. And the ending wasn't what I had envisioned. And I had no idea what to do. I could care and cheer but that was never going to accomplish anything. There was no joy in mudville. Mighty Vlad was out.
And I was left bereft, exiting the stadium with thousands of other lost souls, reinacting a scenario so cliche that rhyming children's tales had been written about it. How humbling, how sadly normal. But what a moment it was, before it left me.
Too bad the moment existed only in my mind. I could see it, it was real, my camera was poised and focused on the shot. It had all the details of a real moment, but it hadn't happened yet. Vlad was at-bat, still alive, the moment still alive, the crowd was on it's feet. Yes there was clapping and cheering, and the restless energy of thousands of people who had brought their passion and focused it on this field and now, on this man. And it all seemed so inevitable. I had basically taken the picture, written the headline. I couldn't have been alone.
And then it was over. And the ending wasn't what I had envisioned. And I had no idea what to do. I could care and cheer but that was never going to accomplish anything. There was no joy in mudville. Mighty Vlad was out.
And I was left bereft, exiting the stadium with thousands of other lost souls, reinacting a scenario so cliche that rhyming children's tales had been written about it. How humbling, how sadly normal. But what a moment it was, before it left me.
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