No base runners.
Roy Halladay was perfect on May 29th. Matched up against Josh Johnson, Roy Halladay threw one of baseball’s greatest games in a 1-0 win against the Marlins and vaulted himself into Philadelphia history.
Halladay’s masterpiece included 11 strikeouts, 115 pitches, and 72 for strikes. Doc was so efficient that after the first inning, Halladay only threw more than 12 pitches once more in any given inning.
The 1-0 score really makes you wonder what would have happened had Cameron Maybin not botched Chase Utley’s line drive that scored Wilson Valdez. The way Doc was dealing, he probably could have thrown another nine perfect innings.
What would have happened if Juan Castro wasn’t at third base? Would Placido Polanco been able to get to the soft hit chopper that Ronnie Paulino bounced over to end the game? That’s the thing about baseball. There are so many questions that come with such a rare occurrence.
Now for the rest of our lives, we have questions, where were you during Roy Halladay’s perfect game? When did you hear that Doc was flirting with perfection? Who were you with during this amazing night in Phillies history?
Where were you when perfection struck?
NICK: I was at Landmark in Glassboro to watch the Phillies and UFC that night. Not being a hockey fan, I had to beg the bar to put the Phillies on a small television due to Game 1 of the Stanley Cup being on. On the smallest TV at the bar, the game was on and we took notice of what was going on after Halladay had made it through the Marlins lineup once through. By the sixth inning fans started taking note of what was happening, and by the 8th inning half the bar had gathered around our table. A night I won’t forget.
PAT GALLEN: How incredible is technology? Myself along with my girlfriend and two other friends were racing to a bar in Fenwick Island, DE, while on vacation. We listened to Scott Franzke giving the play-by-play on my iPhone using the MLB At Bat app, praying that the signal wouldn’t be lost in the car. We came to a stoplight just in front of the bar (which is a Philly bar, by the way – it’s owned by family friends and it’s called Slainte, look it up!) when the final pitch was being thrown and we went insane, high-fiving in the car.
As soon as we walked in, the place was filled to the brim with Phillies fans still going nuts; people hugging and rejoicing and giving cheers with fresh beverages. It wasn’t an ideal way to celebrate one of the finest performances ever, but it’s one of those nights you’ll never forget because of how odd the circumstances were. Me, three friends, a car, and an iPhone. All you need to listen to perfection.
MICHAEL BAUMANN: I’ll be honest: I didn’t watch it. I went to the USA-Turkey soccer game at the Linc that afternoon, and between tailgating and the game probably spent six or seven hours in the scorching heat with little to no shade and nothing to drink but cheap beer. The result? As bad a case of sunburn and dehydration as I’ve ever had. That night, I went to a friend’s house to watch Game 1 of the Stanley Cup finals, and he turned off the Phillies in the third inning for the Flyers game, even though (and I swear to God this is true) I said, “But Halladay’s got a perfect game going!”
Anyway, I fell asleep on his sofa halfway through the second period and missed not only what was (I’m told) a very exciting playoff hockey game, but a historic moment the likes of which I was sure I’d never see again.
DASH TREYHORN: For most of us, we didn’t realize the gravity of the situation until the sixth inning or so. It wasn’t until he set down a solid enough lineup the second time that we thought, hey, this just might be something. And when that feeling hits you, it hits you like a sack of bricks. From the seventh inning on, I sat in front of my computer, listening to Scott Franzke and Larry Andersen, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. And when you rely on your ears for the action, the routine plays can become less routine because you can’t see the action. A grounder in the hole at short might look like an easy out on television, but it certainly doesn’t sound that way.
When MLB Network cut in during the bottom of the ninth, I actually had to force myself out of my seat in front of my computer so I could watch the game. And you have to understand, as someone who firmly believes in the ridiculous nature of baseball jinxes, that was a tough choice. But even then, I couldn’t force myself to record the final inning, because I was so freaked out that I would somehow have an impact on the outcome. It’s like the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle: Objects under observation will behave differently than when not under observation. I already thought that I was tempting fate by watching the final inning, but recording it, too? No way would I mess with history. I suddenly turned into a theoretical physicist.
In my baseball loving life, I’ve never actually been part of a perfect game. I’ve seen the final innings of them a lot, but I can honestly say that I’ve never watched or listened to a perfect game, soup to nuts. So it was kind of a big deal for me. It was like watching Game Five, Part B of the 2008 World Series again. It was just one game that was sort of insignificant, but at the same time, it was everything. But that’s what baseball, and the Phillies, do to us.
KIERAN: Living in Virginia Beach the only times I really get to watch the Phillies is at the bar, while they are playing the Nationals, or on the nationally televised Sunday night games. We were at a friend’s house watching Game 1 of the Stanley Cup finals and had the grill on and the corn hole boards out. We were all over the place in this house; the kitchen, living room, back yard.
I remember watching the hockey game and continuously checking my phone for the Phillies score. After around the fifth inning I can remember my brother peaking his head out the window and saying ’12 more outs, sssshhhhh.’ We kept doing this for the rest of the game. The broadcast of the hockey game was actually interrupted to show the final inning of the Phillies-Marlins game. In our group of friends, my brother and I are the main baseball fans except for one Yankee kid. But when Roy Halladay got that final out, the whole place erupted. Everyone was dishing out high fives and even some hugs. People were congratulating me as if I did something. All I did was witness history. And that’s just fine with me.