I Saw A No-Hitter Thanks To My Mom And Her Message

(Originally published on More Than A Fan on July 29, 2011)

My mom was born on July 27, 1949. If 2011 was any ordinary year, I would have stopped by her house this past Wednesday morning with a birthday card and flowers to wish her a happy birthday before making my way to work. Unfortunately, 2011 has been anything but an ordinary year as my mom passed away in February.

Knowing that Wednesday was going to be one of those emotional days, I had already requested the day off work. While I did not have any real plans for the day other than a cemetery visit, I knew work was the last place I wanted or needed to be.

ryan and grandpa 2I woke up and took flowers, balloons and a cup of coffee (mom always did enjoy her coffee) to the cemetery and visited for over an hour. Fighting back the tears, I got in my car and drove out of the cemetery, not sure exactly what I was going to do to keep my mind occupied for the rest of the day.

As I drove off, something kept telling me that I should go to the Indians game since they were playing at noon. At first I was not going to go but something said there would be something special about Wednesday’s game. It was like a scene straight out of Field of Dreams.

I called my grandfather, knowing how much he was struggling with the loss of my mom and also remembering all of those times as a kid that he and I sat down and watched baseball together. I told him the Indians were playing at noon and that I would be there in an hour to pick him up. He seemed excited about the idea, which made me realize it was the right thing to do.

As we made the 45-minute drive to Progressive Field, we talked about my mom and about how strange the day seemed. We talked about baseball, how it is now and how it was back in the day when he was growing up. And of course we talked about Ralph Kiner – there is no baseball conversation with my grandfather that does not somehow come back to his favorite player.

Driving to the ballpark felt like an out-of-body experience. I had yet to tell my grandfather that I had a feeling about the day’s game, a premonition that we were going to see something special. I felt like Ray Kinsella driving Terence Mann to Fenway Park, thinking there would be something amazing but just not sure what it would be.

We arrived at the stadium and I purchased two seats right behind the plate – if something special was going to happen, I wanted a good view.

We watched as the Indians inexplicably scored a run in the bottom of the first without getting a hit. Ezequiel Carrera reached on an error by shortstop Erick Aybar and stole second two pitches later. Michael Brantley flew out to short right and then Asdrubal Cabrera grounded out to second, which moved Carrera to third. Carrera then scored on a wild pitch by Los Angeles Angels pitcher Ervin Santana before Travis Hafner struck out.

Turns out, that was Santana’s only mistake of the day. While Indians pitcher David Huff was working on a good game himself, his defense let him down time and time again, committing five errors. Huff did not allow a base hit until the 4th inning, which was the first hit of the day for either side.

As you know, Santana never did allow a hit. And by the 8th inning, I was fully rooting for him to pull it off.

This was my “Moonlight Graham” moment – a possible no-hitter. This was the reason that something kept urging me to take my grandfather to the game – a chance to see baseball history.

I tweeted before the 7th inning that if Santana got through the Indians hitters (Brantley-Cabrera-Hafner) in the 7th without allowing a hit, I would be cheering for him over the final two frames. 10 pitches and three outs later, I was fully behind the pitcher who started the day as the enemy.

When Santana struck out the side in the 8th (with a walk to Lonnie Chisenhall thrown in), I knew he had this thing in the bag. There was no doubt in my mind that Santana was going to throw the ninth no-hitter in Angels history and the first ever at Progressive Field since it opened in 1994.

Santana easily got the first two outs in the 9th and up stepped Brantley, who promptly took a called strike on the first pitch. As Santana was getting the signs from catcher Bobby Wilson, I took out my phone and snapped a photo just as Santana got ready to deliver. Turns out that picture ended up being of the final pitch of a no-hitter, as Brantley flied out to center and baseball history had been achieved.

I looked at my grandfather and his first reaction was to say that we had just witnessed history. With a tear in my eye, I told him he was right. I then looked up and winked at my mom to tell her we got the message – she was still looking out for us like she always had.

Happy birthday mom – and thanks for the gift!

Comments? Questions? You can leave them here or email Ryan at ryanisley23@gmail.com. You can also connect with him on Twitter @isley23.