SUMMARY: The last five minutes of the broadcast, October 20, 2004.
"And that monstrous home run shot by Jim Edmonds forced a Game Seven in the NLCS. It doesn't get any better than October baseball." Dan gave a little grin to the camera. "We'll have all the highlights, plus an update from Game Seven of the ALCS, after this. You're watching Sports Night on CSC, so stick around."
Dan's smile stayed frozen in place until Dave said, "We're out. Two minutes back."
At that, both Dan and Casey tore their earpieces off and jogged into the control room. "The score," Dan demanded, eyes wild. "What's the score?" He stopped two feet in front of the monitor and stared at Mark Bellhorn.
Jeremy, hunched over in his spot at the desk, didn't even blink as he stared at the screen. "Top of the ninth. Ten-three."
"Ten?" Dan repeated, incredulous. "The Red Sox are up ten to three against the Yankees in the final inning of the ALCS?" He started to grin.
"Yup," Dana confirmed.
"This is incredible!" Danny said.
"Yes," Dana agreed. "Natalie, do we have the stats on winning after being down 0-3 in a best-of-seven series?"
"Stop saying that!" Jeremy yelped, knocking spasmodically on wood.
Frowning, Casey asked, "What's with him?"
"Casey, Casey, Casey," Dan admonished. "This is a Red Sox-Yankees series we're talking about. You think the Yankees can't close a seven-run gap in one inning?"
Casey's frown deepened. "The way they've been playing tonight? No, I do not."
Jeremy made an anguished sound and muttered something that sounded like a curse under his breath.
Dana tapped Dave on the back, "Do we have the stats graphics loaded?"
Dave swiveled in his chair. "We've got the comeback stats ready to go, and we've got the Yankees' 1-4 hitters' averages split between their winning games and their losing games, updated through right now. Assuming this ends in the ninth, they're ready to go."
"Don't say that," Jeremy pleaded. "The game's not over. There could be a ninth inning rally."
Amused, Dana slapped his shoulder. "You don't really think the Red Sox could blow a seven-run lead in a half-inning, do you?"
Jeremy glared daggers at her. "You've been working in professional sports for how long and you can really ask that question? This is a team that finds new and more painful ways to lose each year."
"The Red Sox were five outs away from a World Series last year," Dana retorted. "They lost in the eleventh inning by one run. That's hardly the same as blowing a seven-run lead in the bottom of the ninth."
"Please stop saying it," Jeremy moaned.
"Oh, my God!" Natalie pointed at the TV. "Two outs away."
"History in the making," Danny murmured, beaming at the Old Towne Boys.
Jeremy stood and started to pace near the monitor.
"It deserves mentioning that I projected this precise outcome." Dan leaned toward Casey. "A lesser man would say I told you so."
Casey rolled his eyes. "You know what's more annoying than people who say 'I told you so?'"
"Fifty-five thousand Yankees fans chanting 'Who's your daddy?' when their team is getting thrashed by their arch rivals?" Danny suggested.
"No," Casey retorted. "People who say 'I told you so' by saying 'Aren't you glad I didn't say I told you so?'"
Danny blinked. "Wow, that was some nice syntax."
"Uh, guys?" Dana interjected with an expectant look. "You may recall we have a live TV show to do right now?"
Danny gave her his best puppy-dog look. "We're two outs away from history, Dana!"
"Stop it!" Jeremy pled, looking as if he might throw up.
"One out," Natalie updated, excitement in her voice. She joined Jeremy and laid a calming hand on his back.
"Yes," Dana agreed, "and it's our job to report that history as it happens, which necessitates your presence in that brightly lit room back there that the rest of us like to call a TV studio."
"Chris, Will, Dave," Dan began, "can you--?"
"They are not piping the game onto your monitors," Dana interrupted swiftly. "Thirty seconds back. Would you please get your asses behind that desk?"
An anguished moan turned everyone's attention to Jeremy, who buried his face in his hands. Natalie glanced back and explained, "Timlin just issued a four-pitch walk."
Jeremy muttered, "This is how it all starts to unravel."
Dan headed back to the studio, clapping Jeremy on the back as he passed by. "That's what you said when Francona brought Pedro in."
"And Pedro promptly gave up two runs on three hits," Jeremy retorted. "This could be the start of the greatest ninth-inning rally in post-season history."
"Nah, in about five minutes, it'll be the greatest comeback in sports history," Danny tossed back, striding toward the anchor desk. He took his seat and reattached his lapel mic and earpiece. "Someone better tell me--"
"You'll hear the shouting," Dana's voice in his ear promised.
"Ten seconds back."
Danny glanced over at his partner. "You've got my hundred bucks ready?"
"We'll see how the NLCS plays out," Casey responded, then turned to the cameras with a smile. "Welcome back. The Boston Red Sox are one out away from being the first team in Major League history to come back from an 0-3 deficit and win a best-of-seven series. And the New York Yankees are one out away from the biggest collapse in post-season history." He turned to Danny. "What is it about October baseball?"
Dan dipped his chin and turned to the camera. "Baseball is a team sport, but every play begins with one pitcher facing down one batter. Bats and balls, pitches and swings, hits and misses -- no time limit, no sudden death, just nine men facing down nine men in this game of inches. Last year's ALCS between the Red Sox and the Yankees was riveting television, but it turns out that was just a warm up for this year's historic series. No team in Major League history has ever even forced a seventh game when down 0-3; not only are the Red Sox playing Game Seven tonight, they're one out away from winning it."
"I think we all have one question," Casey responded. "How did this happen?"
Danny positively grinned when he answered, "The Boston Red Sox are a better team, period. They didn't win as many games as the Yankees, but in almost every other statistical category, they're better. This scrappy band of self-proclaimed idiots don't know that they're supposed to lose. Even down three games to none, they believed they could win this thing, and they're about to pull it off."
Casey nodded. "As for the Yankees, since the 2000 edition, this clubhouse has been home to a collection of expensive, talented players than a cohesive team. Not only did their pitching staff collapse like a cheap card table, but their 1-4 hitters went silent in the last four games. If the Red Sox can hold on for one more out, heads will roll in the Bronx this winter."
"Sheffield hit a ground ball to Pokey Reese," Dana's voice relayed, "Mientkeiwicz catches it for the force at first base."
Danny lifted his hand to his earpiece, holding it tight to his head, and started to smile. "Ladies and gentleman, the Boston Red Sox have won the Pennant."
THE END