Mike "Schadenfreude" Piazza

Schadenfreude is a German word that basically means taking pleasure in other's pain. Somehow, I just think it seems to invoke my most wonderful feelings of my least favorite player, Mike Piazza. I know, as a Christian, I have a long way to go in the forgiveness department, but let me at least wallow in his misery for a little while.

Last night, Andy talked me into going to the game with him. It was a glorious night for baseball and, indeed, as we approached the park there was a sizzle in the air. We got to our seats just minutes before the first pitch and sat under the cool awning on a 70 degree night to watch division leading baseball.

The Padres were in town, and as a team, I have nothing against them. Even if they win the division every couple of years, even if they have Trevor Hoffman, even if Tony Gwynn (who was the best pure hitter I've ever seen) used to light us up all the time, hating the Padres would be like hating the Taco Bell dog. You might hate him on the surface, but secretly in your heart of hearts you chuckle everytime you hear, "Yo Quiero Taco Bell?"

I asked Andy if he thought this might be the night that we saw the return to form of Noah Lowry, who blazed a second half trail through the National League last year. Well, he went 8 1/3 innings and gave up nothing until his pitch count wandered over 115 pitches. He was dominant until then. He had help though as several Giants made some great defensive plays behind him. But none of the Padres hits were cheap hits, even if they failed to produce any runs.

In the second inning, with a runner hanging around on the basepaths, young rookie phenom Matt Santos (okay, his last name is Santos, but last night when I said to Andy, where have I heard that name before, it was a fictional character, Andy gave me a blank stare... and now, all I can think about is the wonderful Matt Santos character who won the Presidency on The West Wing... so that's what I'm calling him), playing in only his second game, came to the plate. Andy looked at me and said, "I think its time for Santos to hit his first homerun." And just like that, Santos crushed one to deep center field for his first homerun. And everyone looked at Andy with new respect and awe. But not me... I knew Andy was baseball psychic. It was 2-0.

A couple of innings later, Santos walked, moved to second on a perfectly executed bunt by Pitcher Noah Lowry, and then was driven home by a Randy Wynn double down the line. Wynn wasted no time in stealing third. And then, with Omar Vizquel providing the bat work, scored on a perfectly executed suicide squeeze that Padres catcher, Mike Piazza couldn't touch. Vizquel eventually came around to score and it was 5-0.

But the play of the game, the absolute darling of the moment, the quintessential best play ever, occurred in the 8th. Alou led off with a base hit. And that brought Barry Bonds to the plate. As he walked up, I was thinking to myself, he's going to hit one out of here. He's going to hit 722 and I'm going to see it. The first pitch was a ball. The second one Bonds unloaded on - straight up. It skyed into the air. Piazza ripped off his mask. Bonds threw his bat down in disgust and started walked back to the dugout. But then, my favorite player in the whole wide world - who played for the hated Dodgers all those years, and then the Mets, and now with the Padres - whose father tried to steal my Giants and move them to Tampa Bay - this great wonderful player, DROPPED THE FOUL BALL! If Schadenfreude was a drug, I could have retired a kingpin at that moment. Two pitches later, Bonds found the cheap seats! 722! The relief pitcher who had just come into the game, was so rattled that two pitches later, Durham crushed one to right. And a couple pitches after that, Feliz found center. And then, they decided to give the reliever some time to beat the press out of the locker room. It was 9-0 and the Giants still didn't have an out in the inning. And all because Piazza couldn't catch a routine foul ball! Ah... I love this game.

Okay, okay, I can put the relish away with the mustard, this was only one game of the entire season. The Giants still trail the Padres by a game and a half and have never shown much inclination to run away with the division. But for one glorious moment I got to see the player I hate the most drop a routine foul ball which created back to back to back homeruns.

And that is why I love the game of Baseball.