What a run

There's a symmetry in baseball that is so subtle that not everybody sees it. Or senses it. Or grasps it.

But it's there.

It's not just the 90 feet between bases, where an inch or two longer would see nearly everybody getting thrown out on ground balls at first base, or an inch or two shorter where nearly everybody would beat out infield grounders for base hits.

It's not just the 60 feet, six inches which gives the pitcher just enough time and space to throw a curveball. Or a slider. Or a knuckleball. Or a fast ball.

Or a letters-to-knees strike zone that allows this to happen.

It's not even that the game is played on a perfect diamond. All of these are merely the physical symmetries of the game.

But the game is played on an intangible level, too.

How about the New York Yankees Aaron Judge, who wears uniform number 99? The night he hit his 62nd home run, the Yankees had a record of – wait for it – 99-62. Why would you think the Yankees are not Judge's team?

The intangible symmetry of a No. 6 seed – the Philadelphia Phillies – going against a No. 1 seed – the Houston Astros – for the world championship.

The Astros, not only one of the best teams in the game, but also one of the best organizations, defeated the Phillies 4-1 last night in Game 6 of the best-of-seven series to win their second world championship since 2017, and thereby giving the venerable Dusty Baker his first World Series ring as a manager, something he's been trying for 25 years. He's on a fast train to the Hall of Fame as we speak.

To me, a diehard Phillies fan, the most obvious moment of symmetry came in Game 3, when the Phillies defeated the Astros 7-0 on the strength of five home runs. The very next game, four Houston pitchers combined to throw a no-hitter against the Phils – only the second no-hit game in 119 years of World Series history. Symmetry.

This is baseball. This is what it does. Over the course of a long season, baseball is the symmetry of conflicting emotions, of beautiful diving catches in the outfield and agonizing bobbled double play balls at second base. It's the symmetry of a mediocre team (the Phillies were just six games over .500 – 87-75 – at the end of the regular season) taking on the best there is.

It's the symmetry of a cheesesteak against a nacho plate.

The Phillies got hot at just the right time, winning playoff series against St. Louis, Atlanta and San Diego. They did so with timely hits, incredible late-inning rallies, and a suspect bullpen that somehow seemed to find itself in October.

They were fun to watch.

It was the symmetry of a long season that ended up giving not only a city, but an entire region something to cheer for. The team has youth. It has experience. It has a couple of needs, particulaly in pitching depth, if it wants to reach the next level.

And it all leads to this: as my wife pointed out (she is a non-sports fan, by the way, illustrating yet another example of curious Yin-Yang symmetry in our house), there's also the glorious symmetry of there's always next year.

God help me, I love baseball.