I'm an old man, Tony Oliva protests, I played 50 years ago. Memories fade. How can I possibly recall a baseball game that long ago?
Understood. Oh well. Just wondering about that 1967 pennant race.
Oh, the pennant race? Those two words change everything. Suddenly, Oliva can go at-bat by at-bat. Maybe pitch by pitch.
"We were winning 2-0 in the sixth inning [in the season's final, decisive game], and [Red Sox pitcher Jim] Lonborg, he bunts the ball. He bunts for a base hit!" the 77-year-old Twins legend says, shaking his head at the effrontery of it all, 48 years after the play. "We played a little sloppy that inning. We had an error, they got a few hits and scored five runs. And that lost it for us. That's a game I'll always remember."
He's not the only one — because that's what pennant races do. They sear into the marrow of the losers, they mix with champagne glory in the minds of the winners. They rivet entire cities and states with their day-after-day drama, and they turn an ordinary baseball game into a passion play of joy and sorrow, agony and euphoria.
"You have some great moments and some terrible ones, but that's what makes it so much fun," said Joe Mauer, decorated veteran of successful down-to-the-wire pennant chases in 2006 and 2009, and a final-day fizzle in 2008. "It's almost a shame when it ends."
And it's difficult to know when it begins, apparently. Are the Twins in one now, sitting 1½ games behind Texas for a wild-card berth? Opinions differ.
"To be honest, it doesn't feel like [a pennant race] yet, not really," said Trevor Plouffe. "We've been up and down, but mostly we're still just focused on each day's game. I think we're still a week away from watching" the standings.