April 5, 2020

By J.P. Antonacci

Canadian Baseball Network

On Friday night, courtesy of Sportsnet rebroadcasting classic games, I watched the Toronto Blue Jays win the World Series for the first time since that fateful night in 1992.

Well, actually, since the morning after.

Try as I might all those years ago, as the game went into extras and the night lengthened, my almost-eight-year-old self couldn’t quite keep his eyes open.

The next thing I knew, sunlight was peeking in through my bedroom window. It was morning, and I didn’t know if they’d won.

I raced to the kitchen, where my dad, to his everlasting credit, told me that he too had fallen asleep and also didn’t know how the game had ended.

But he’d gotten it on tape.

As I hopped with excitement, my dad cued up the VCR and hit play. We watched from the edge of the couch, my heart pounding with each pitch.

When Otis Nixon laid down that bunt, my incredulous eyes popping, and Timlin flipped to Carter, all the tension turned to joy. I leapt up and jumped on my dad, mirroring the celebration on the field – though I doubt I noticed that. I was too busy cheering at the top of my lungs, enjoying what to that point was the best moment of my life.

I was a baseball nut growing up. Knew all the stats and stories. Devoured the sports section and any baseball book I could find. Pretended to be Alomar and Gruber as I scooped up grounders with my Little League team. And nothing was finer than October baseball. Walking home from school, a chill in the air, the crisp autumn leaves underfoot, knowing soon I’d be nestled by the TV or tucked into bed with the radio tuned to the game.

Game 6, it turns out, was on a Saturday. Perfect. No school to worry about in the morning. My birthday was days away, and I hoped the Blue Jays were about to give me the best gift ever.

I remember details of the ‘93 Series more vividly than that first win – a product of being not-quite-nine years old versus not-quite-eight. And while I’ve seen the highlights of the final inning of 1992 many times over the years – the Winfield double, the Nixon bunt, Timlin to Carter to immortality – it was a treat to watch the drama unfold again in full while memories of the series popped into my head.

The uproar over the upside-down flag. Alomar’s protestations – justified, as it turned out – at being called out at the plate after diving past Smoltz’s outstretched glove. Maldonado’s air-mailed throw. Devon White gliding like a gazelle and making the Catch. The triple play that wasn’t.

I can still picture the front page of the Toronto Sun with a close-up photo of Kelly Gruber’s glove tagging Deion Sanders’ foot, with big block letters blaring “HE WAS OUT.” I didn’t much care for Bob Davidson after that play, and his later work hasn’t changed my view.

I remember Jimmy Key walking off the mound after his last start as a Blue Jay, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised, as if he’d been in a trance and was now wondering where he was. Considering the pitching clinic he’d just put on against the National League’s best, maybe he had been dealing from another plane.

I remember being so disgusted at Lonnie Smith’s Game 5 grand slam that I couldn’t bear to watch another pitch. A dejected Joe Carter, head hung and shoulders slumped, was the last thing I saw before angrily turning off the TV.

Watching Tom Henke pitch in the ninth inning of Game 6, the melody of a jangly country song written in his honour came to mind (“Terminator, Terminator, if he doesn’t getcha now he’ll getcha later”). Every time the Sportsnet broadcast cut to commercial I half expected to hear the famous Coca-Cola Blue Jays jingle, but it turns out I was a year early and a couple decades late.

So many moments. But the one I remember best is jumping into my dad’s arms, hooting and hollering because the Blue Jays, my team, had won it all. I’ll always be grateful to my dad for letting me experience that moment “live” with him.

My dad and I have watched many baseball games together since, and when it’s again safe to go into the city and be in the same house, we’ll watch some more. We’ll hopefully get to watch the Blue Jays win another World Series one of these years.

And you can bet I’ll stay up for that one.