My husband wouldn't even tell me why I needed to come downstairs to watch the Sox game. It's an baseball old superstition. You don't ever say the words "no hitter" or "perfect game" while it's in progress. It draws the attention of the gods. It creates an immediate end to the dream scenario. It's the quickest way to get kicked out of a Chicago sports bar or shushed by your husband.
Being ridiculously superstitious myself, I stayed upstairs and listened to the remainder of the game. I couldn't watch. I heard my husband groan when Philip Humber got behind on the count in the 9th inning, 3-0. I heard my kids scream as AJ Pierzynski scrambled for the ball during the final out. When I knew the game was finally over, I came downstairs as the commentators noted that for only the 21st time in all of professional baseball, a perfect game had been thrown.
Beyond the talented young pitcher, I found several other perfect moments during the aftermath. The Seattle Mariners fans stayed. They applauded the kid as though he was one of their own. They moved past the usual rivalry and pettiness of opposing sports teams, and cheered wildly for the young Texas native. It was no longer a fierce competition between cities, but instead a happy celebration of a kid who just done good.
Humber is expecting a baby boy with his wife very soon. He worried about the excitement being too much for the mom-to-be who was watching the game from home. He thanked God because that's what a lot of kids from Texas are taught to do when good things happen.
So on a sunny Spring day in Seattle, a reminder was handed out. Grace and kindness are not extinct. The ability to appreciate others' success still lives. And as Humber talked about his baby boy with joy and excitement, I was reminded of the promise within us all.
A perfect game. A perfect day.