I've gone to a lot of games at PNC Park. I've seen a lot of hopeless situations and I've seen some miraculous games (I was there one night in August '03 where they scored six in the ninth to rally back from an 11-6 ninth inning deficit against the Rockies) but I think what I saw from section 331 last night can only be surpassed by the Garrett Mackowiak double header. It was like there was a magical "on" switch the crowd (or at least those of us that were left) pressed going into the 9th inning that somehow carried the team to a win. After the top of the ninth I looked at my friend, turned my hat inside out and backwards and said "I see one amazing game every year, it's like a rule or something. I hafve a feeling about tonight. If we get Law-Dog to the plate, we have a chance." Since the scoreboard operator seemed to think the game was sufficently lost to the point that we didn't need to play Belushi's monologue from Anima House to fire everyone up, I did it myself. Before we take the plate in the 9th, the entire section has rally caps on (even the three-year old sitting behind me... that poor kid, if only he knew what a life of being a Pirates fan would do to him). Somehow the atmosphere in the ballpark changed. Once we got a couple guys on I stood up and declared "All we need to do is get Looper into this game and we're gonna have a chance." That provoked a dirty look from the Mets fan in front of me. Once Looper did get into the game, things still looked bleak since Lloyd decided to use Tike instead of Cota (who was in the on-deck circle). There really isn't a more depressing situation in baseball than being down 5-1 with two outs in the ninth and having Tike Redman at the plate with two strkes. And yet somehow, Tike fouls off a pitch. And another one. And five more. The crowd cheers after each one, and somehow Tike comes through with a hit, as does Lawton. All of a sudden it's 5-5 and the crowd is delerious. Of course until we see Mesa on the mound in the top of the 10th. Who then somehow retires the Mets 1-2-3. At this point, everyone left in the stands is pretty sure this win is predetermined by God himself. I mean a clutch hit from Tike and a perfect inning from Mesa? Things like that only happen with a little bit of help from elsewhere. Anyways, we get the runners on the in the tenth and who steps up to the plate, but Mr. Clutch himself, Humberto Cota. I have never in my life had more confidence that a .240 hitter was going to get a hit, and whaddya know, he delivers! Pandemonium breaks out on the field and in the stands. Just when I thought I was out (as in, being so disgusted with the whole organization I didn't want to go to any more games just to spite McClatchy so he didn't get my money) they pulled me back in.