Of course the hottie on-field announcer is crying, and tons of people in the crowd are crying.
Oh, and last night's weather included this (thanks to Mikey for the pic)...
...so there was genuine concern about this one getting washed out. Instead, it was a perfectly sunny, beautiful day.
As is my wont when I'm editing, I was watching the game with the sound down. I keep it just loud enough to where if Kruk and Kuipe get all excited about something I'll hear it and turn up the TV.
So, as the game meandered along, I noticed in the fourth inning that it appeared Cain hadn't allowed a baserunner. The fifth inning comes and goes, same thing. Now I'm watching the game, though still with the sound down.
The Giants are comfortably ahead so I'm not too worried there, but because I had the sound down I'm not 100% certain that Cain has a perfecto going. Maybe he walked someone only to double him up?
Two outs in the 6th and the Pirates' pitcher is at the plate, and I'm dying to know whether Cain is in fact throwing a perfect game. I know it's a no-no because the screen says the Pirates have no runs, hits or errors. Still, maybe it's not a perfecto?
'Don't do it,' I tell myself. 'Do not turn the TV up and jinx this. Leave well enough alone. He's at least got a no-no going, and you just KNOW you'll fuck it up if you change anything right now.'
'Yeah, but it's just the fuggen pitcher. You're fine. Go ahead and check.'
'Dude, they may not even say anything. If he does have a perfecto going, they probably won't mention it. They probably won't even mention the no-no either, never mind the perfect game. You may just jinx this for nothing. You probably still won't be able to tell whether he walked anyone.'
'IT'S JUST THE PITCHER! C'MON! DON'T BE SUCH A WEEPING VAGINA!'
My Bad Belushi wins out. I turn up the sound. First pitch...an opposite field one-hopper between short and third. No-no gone. Perfecto gone. The goddamn pitcher, a career .069 hitter, broke it up.
I literally took the Snickers bar I was trying to eat and smooshed it on my head.
Since the game was basically over then—there was no way Pittsburgh was going to come back—I turned the sound back down and returned to my editing, occasionally peeking over to see how things were going.
Cain goes on to get the next batter before retiring the side in order in the 7th, 8th and 9th for an assknuckled cakewalk of a one-hit shutout with no walks or errors and eleven Ks.
Entirely my fucking fault. I knew better. I know better.
Friday the 13th, too.
