and, game winning blow landed for his brothers, and for himself, for sure. There may not be a happier, more prideful, exhilirating feeling than rising from the dirt at second in memory than that. To the announcer's call that "Good ol' Smurf has done it again," my heart beating slightly less, my smile, doubtless as broad as it has ever been, fading in the gloaming. Hearing the opposing manager behind home plate, yelling at the unfair announcer.

That's what John Kruk sounded like, condemning Swish's thumping, which was as natural in the circumstance as breathing, criticizing it as showing the pitcher up. He was hiding inside anyway, Mr. Sour Grapes.