The Seattle Mariners baseball club has been terrible for nearly all of forever. But in 1995 they had a moment. They broke through, made it to the playoffs for the first time in 20 years. Yesterday our local sports channel replayed one of the playoff games from that exciting season. Fifty-six thousand seattlites crowded into the Kingdome — now 14 years a pile of dust — and collectively held their breath as the Mariners fell behind, clawed back to tie, then won on a line-drive Edgar Martinez home run.
As the ball sailed over the centerfield fence the crowd screamed, then roared, then bounced, then hugged, then roared, screamed, danced and hugged some more. The camera panned across the pandemonious throng. Kids, grownups, old people. All agape with wonder at their team’s sudden reversal of fortune. They danced. They danced. They danced.
That moment is over now. Almost twenty years gone now. And the people in that crowd who shared that day: the kids are all grownups, the grownups are old and the old people are dead.