At times over the past 20 years, as the Blue Jays dragged themselves from one end of a hopeless season to another, baseball has seemed like an interminable trudge.
It got hard to remember what it felt like when every pitch of an at-bat mattered, front to back. After Friday's remarkable 14-inning Jays loss, you do. And while it probably pains you, it's a sweet pain.
The epic contest at Rogers Centre also forever divided us into two camps – those who saw the foot on the bag; and those who saw it off.
The Blue Jays have not been at their best over the first two games of their American League Division Series. After losing 6-4, they need to sweep the three remaining games in order to advance.
But while they haven't performed well, man, have they performed. Though it ended in tragedy, given the stakes and the occasion, Friday's game may have been the most dramatic in Blue Jays history.
Where to start?
The three first-inning errors (only one scored that way) that put playoff rookie Marcus Stroman in a two-run hole?
The way Chris Colabello – also playing in his first post-season game – sealed off what looked like an unsurvivable first inning by catching a grounder, tagging the runner, simultaneously snake-charming Prince Fielder at third base with his gaze, then sprinting across the diamond to tag Fielder out as well?
That's one hell of a run-on sentence, but it was one hell of a run-on play.
The way Stroman screwed himself down onto the mound and held the team steady while everyone else whipped around in the postseason whirlwind?
At one point, he retired 14 consecutive Rangers. Actually, "retired" doesn't capture it. He buried them.
Or how about Josh Donaldson's return from a huge blow to the head on Thursday? And the way he let everyone know he was feeling all right by working a 0-2 count full, and then launching a ball over the wall in deep-centre?
That made it 2-1 Texas after one inning. One! From a narrative perspective, you would've been happy if the game ended then. We already had enough to write about.
But it would not end. Ever. It stretched on endlessly, as if it were an opera. Or, if you're into opera, like baseball. Put it this way – I have never before covered a game that started at noon and seriously begun sweating the deadline.
Also like opera, it had a painted villain – home-plate umpire Vic Carapazza.
Now, it's far too easy to blame the officials. That's why we do it.
Carapazza's strike zone wasn't a recognizable rectangle. It may have been a trapezoid or an octahedron. It was hard to tell.
By the end, Carapazza had Jays shortstop Troy Tulowitzki – a man not given to outbursts – shrieking at him over a called third strike.
After the game, Tulowitzki played the politician: "It was both ways. There was … [clears throat] … For myself at that last at-bat, I didn't think that was in the zone. That's part of the game."
Kevin Pillar also played the politician, but more of a McCarthy sort: "You trying to get me in trouble? Wow. I need someone's advice here. You trying to throw me under the bus?"
Neither was very happy.
On any other day, every one of these angles points you toward the story. But this wasn't a straight line. It was a patchwork of dramas – Roberto Osuna returning to provide two lockdown innings; much-maligned left-hander Aaron Loup doing much the same while Toronto fans epically trolled him on social media; a story-within-the-story Mitch Moreland at-bat that led to a tie game; Brett Cecil being rolled by Mike Napoli in a run-down that likely ended the season for Toronto's best reliever; Donaldson watching a home run go foul and then jawing so hard with Rangers reliever Keone Kela that the benches cleared.
From the eighth on, it was a simple staring contest: them at each other, and us at them. Not one of us would or could blink. You had the deep-in-your-bones certainty it would be changed by something small and odd. And it was.
In the 14th inning, Chris Gimenez knocked a single to right field. Base runner Rougned Odor rounded second. Jose Bautista rocket-launched a ball to Tulowitzki. Odor came scurrying back to the bag. Tulowitzki pivoted and laid the glove on Odor's foot.
Odor was plainly safe, at least at the outset. But then his foot did something. It moved in some uncertain, but significant way. While Tulowitzki was careful to keep the glove on him, Odor's foot seemed to come off the bag. He was called safe.
If you are a Tag Truther, the word "seemed" will infuriate you. The Jays challenged the call. From a variety of angles, it was hard to tell what exactly you were seeing.
Was that the sole of Odor's cleat? All of it?
Everyone who saw it Toronto's way was pretty damn clear about what they'd seen. They saw a whole country being robbed in plain sight.
Tulowitzki wouldn't say one way or the other. Pillar, who was looking in from behind, chose a generous portion of sarcasm: "That's why [the officials] are making the big bucks over there. They're the best in the world at their jobs. So, I don't know who's in the booth. Hats off to him. He made a great call."
Instead of becoming the third out, Odor was ruled safe once more. Hanser Alberto followed with a double. Game effectively over.
Afterward, the Jays were grim and purposeful. No outbursts, but all of the "one game at a time" talk seemed forced. Only Donaldson, the kid who'd play two every day if you let him, seemed buoyant: "I like our chances."
While he may like them, math does not. Over 20 years, only five teams have gone down 0-2 in a five-game series and come back to win.
If this is it, you may feel royally jobbed. You may come out of it hating umpires, Rangers, cleats, camera angles and the very idea of reality as perceived in two dimensions.
But at the very least, you will have known what it feels like to watch five hours of baseball and hang on every second. That's something. That's more than something. From the perspective of fandom, it's the whole point.
Cathal Kelly