Journal of a Working Boy

I believe that a bases-loaded hit-by-pitch is a terrible way for a baseball game to end.

Monroe sophomore infielder Adam Opoien stepped into the batter's box in last Friday's state quarterfinal in the classic hero-making situation: Bases loaded, two outs, tie game, bottom of the last inning. The Dragons loaded the bases with no outs, but the next two hitters failed to produce the game-winning run, which had stood just 90 feet away for more than five minutes now.

Every young baseball player's dream was one swing of the bat away for Opoien. The Santiam Christian defense, behind a strong pitching performance, was one out away from avoiding the threat and retaking the game's momentum after already coming back from two down to tie the score heading into the seventh.

Pitch one: Strike one.

Monroe coach Bill Crowson was already thinking about what pitcher he would use during extra innings.

Pitch two: Beanball.

Opoien's dream came true – he drove in the game-winning run during the state quarterfinal game, earning his team a spot among the state's final four. But this could not have been how he had ever envisioned his time to shine. All ballplayers know the term “taking one for the team,” and most are more than willing to do so. But what kind of sick individual would dream of this inadvertent, career-defining accomplishment? Crowson said that the occurrence caught the team, as well as the home fans, by surprise for a moment. Of course it did.

A batter getting plunked is simply a disturbing way for a baseball game to end. It's certainly not the least likely or the most embarrassing (See: Bill Buckner, 1986 World Series photo) but this game's joyous post-game celebration almost certainly was accompanied by at least a degree of remorse. Most competitors don't take a lot of pride in winning by default. And what of those poor ballplayers on the other side? The collective stomach of the Santiam Christian team must have sunk so low after that 0-1 pitch bounced off Opoien. The defense then had to walk to its foul line and shake hands with the confusedly delirious Monroe team.

I'm not saying that I wouldn't have inched a little closer to the plate, knowing the stakes of Opoien's seventh-inning at bat, because I would have. I'm not saying that I would have tried, at all, to get out of the way of that pitch, because I wouldn't have. But I believe that the pain of that pitch's impact was must less than the pain of witnessing a baseball game end in such a heart-wrenching manner.