That Thing

As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)

By Ronald N. Guy Jr.

One day last week marked the fifth anniversary of unforgettable October magic.  The exact date doesn’t matter.  The memory certainly does.  It was the deciding Game 5 of the National League Division Series.  The Nationals and Dodgers were tied 3-3 going into the top of the tenth inning.  Adam Eaton led off with a walk.  Anthony Rendon doubled off the wall in left.  Juan Soto was intentionally walked.  Veteran utility/do-everything player Howie Kendrick stepped to the plate.  He fouled off the first pitch.  The next pitch was a fastball.  Kendrick barreled it.  The camera switch to Dodgers centerfielder Cody Bellinger who was running back to the wall.  Just short of the warning track, he slowed, acknowledging the inevitable.  Kendrick’s blast landed beyond the fence - a grand slam that sent the Nats to the National League Championship Series and, ultimately, the 2019 World Series championship. 

Where were you?  I was standing in front of my television, pacing the floor and nervously flipping a football from one hand to another.  When Kendrick’s ball sailed over the fence I jumped, whipped my right arm in jubilation, and the football I held in my hand scraped against the ceiling.  It left a six-inch mark that is still there today.  It will never be cleaned or painted over.  Never.  “Kendrick Patina”: It’s a treasured artifact of that World Series championship. 

In 1998, Lauryn Hill released her epic album “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.”  Track 5 is a lovely little number called Doo Wop (That Thing) – the parenthetical being the catch.  Like the album itself, “That Thing” was both for its time and ahead of its time.  And I’m about to do it a disservice with a sports-related message reallocation.  “That Thing” is about toxic masculinity and its impact on female self-worth, a condition-critical topic that took another two damaging decades before it commanded serious social attention.  For this piece, just the “That Thing” chorus will be used to illustrate a point.  Shallow, I know.  Hence the advanced apology and acknowledgement of the song’s far greater intended purpose.

October: The best month on the sports calendar.  College football’s best are jockeying for post-season position.  NFL teams are rounding into shape and gearing up for a second half push.  Hockey is starting.  The NBA is about to tip off.  The World Series and WNBA titles are up for grabs.  It is a time for the hopeful.  The seekers.  The determined dreamers.  October: It begs for the spinning of Hill’s record and random the humming of “That Thing.”

From a sports perspective, “That Thing” is the nebulous, intangible force teams seek.  No proven formula to either acquire or retain it exists.  As a fan, it’s a presence or absence you can sense.  I suspect it’s the same for athletes and teams.  If a team has it and can hold it, they are practically unbeatable.  Fail to grasp it, though, and practically no amount of talent can overcome the lack of mystical magic.

The Nats had “That Thing” in 2019.  Crazy, explanation-defying, stuff happened after an ominous 19-32 start to the season.  Baby Sharks took over Nats Park.  Soto arrived as an MVP-level force.  Stephen Strasburg remained healthy.  Balls took funny hops in the outfield.  Veterans played out of their minds.  Youth was served.  A dugout aligned.  The energy grew into a raging winning fever.  Champagne celebrations. Trophies.  Parades.  Forever memories and beautiful scuff marks on ceilings.

Keep an eye out for it – “That Thing” – when watching teams navigate their seasons, and especially in the playoffs.  It is one of the best lessons from sports: a group of individuals, with specific jobs and skillsets, unifying behind a common goal, catching a mysterious wave of momentum and riding it to places where only dreams once resided. 

Another key to success in sports and life is situational awareness.  To the heavy-hearted Orioles fans and readers, take some solace in this piece and the 2019 Nats.  “That Thing” is as elusive as is as it powerful; the Nats’ many pre-2019 playoff disasters are proof.  But the penance now will make it all the sweeter when October magic visits Baltimore.