The Orioles fans sat in their beautiful park
They waved over the ushers and bought hot dogs in the 9th, in case they got stuck in a jubilant parking lot, horns honking and strangers shouting.
Or if they stayed out and celebrated in crowded bars, kitchens closed but highlights reeling above taps.
They had three grey-shirted hitters to watch, then a win in the bottom of the ninth.
Just like when they practiced with whiffle ball in backyards, only that was Game 7.
And they were all Brooks Robinson.
Now their kids would be Adam Jones.
But first they would all be Zach Britton.
Striking out the side, pumping fists, heading to the dugout.
Inning over: 1, 2, 3.
Britton tossed a ball. And another.
Three grey shirts kicked bases, and leaned toward the next one.
The Orioles fans held their heads, and didn’t dare breathe.
Their savior lost control when they needed him most.
What next?
Eric Hosmer, bases loaded.
He swung.
Alcides Escobar bolted from third.
Steve Pearce scooped a grounder and fired home.
Nick Hundley lunged for Escobar.
One out.
Still tied.
Still tied!
Darren O’Day trotted in from the bullpen.
And Billy Butler chopped a ball to short.
Double play.
Bases loaded, no outs, and Kansas City could not score.
A dream.
With Jones and Nelson Cruz to win it in the 9th.
Except.
They swung and missed and struck out, too.
So did their leadoff man.
Strange.
So the Orioles would win in ten.
Only.
Then.
Alex Gordon launched a ball to right.
Maybe an Orioles fan caught it.
An Orioles player did not.
And the Royals pulled ahead 6-5.
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