The World Baseball Classic came to an end last night, and Hollywood would have laughed. Mr. Big Shot Studio Mogul would have called it the dopiest dopey sports movie ending he'd ever read, and thrown the writer off the lot without validating his parking.
I mean, really? It comes down to one at-bat, teammate-against-teammate, maybe the two best players in the game staring each other down like Doc Holliday and Johnny Ringo?
And then Shohei Ohtani, called in to strike out Mike Trout and save the championship for Japan, struck out Mike Trout to save the championship for Japan.
Slider. Swing. Miss.
Japan 3, USA 2.
World Baseball Classic?
More like Wow Baseball Classic.
Japan, after all, got to the title game by ousting Mexico on a two-run, walk-off double off the wall by Munetaka Murakami. A day later, it's Ohtani vs. Trout, two out in the ninth, the count full, Japan clinging to the same one-run lead Mexico had 24 hours before.
Slider. Swing. Miss.
And all the soreheads out there who crabbed that the WBC was a big waste of time, that it got guys hurt in advance of what really mattered -- the MLB season -- were left to mutter and whinge in a corner somewhere. Because it mattered, by golly. It gave us the kind of drama we won't see again until October, if then. What, you think Mets-Phillies in a midsummer series is going to make the earth stand still?
Nah. In fact, watching the replays of that final showdown at-bat, you know what it reminded me of?
It reminded me of last December, Argentina vs. France in Qatar, the French rallying from two goals back to force extra time, then rallying again to force PKs to decide it. And Argentina winning perhaps the most thrilling final in World Cup history when Gonzalo Montiel beat French keeper Hugo Lloris on the deciding PK.
Same feel. Same vibe. Same epic showdown, mano-a-mano, whoever wins their duel wins it all.
"But Mr. Blob," you're saying now. "Baseball isn't soccer, world stage-wise."
Nope. It isn't.
But it ain't a bad substitute.
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