The Perfect Game

We won again this week, and I’ll come back to that. First I’d like to talk about the New York Mets.

I grew up idolizing my grandfather. And so I was a Mets fan. The second fact follows from the first as inexorably as America’s western expansion. You see, in its early history, Baseball was an eastern sport. It made sense. The big markets were on the east coast and sports were already big business. In New York City, where my grandfather lived, there were three teams: the Yankees, Dodgers and Giants. Each team’s fan base had a unique character, and if you followed baseball, you drew a large part of your identity from who you supported.

My grandfather was a Brooklyn Dodgers man. If you knew him, you would understand. The Dodgers were the lovable losers, the Bad News Bears, Charlie Brown. They were talented but always coming up short. Their unofficial team motto, “Wait till next year” perfectly encapsulated the hope the team inspired in its fans. When the team relocated to Los Angeles, it left many fans, including my grandfather, adrift and without a team to throw themselves behind.

All that changed when Major League Baseball expanded to include the New York Mets in 1962. Although they were the worst team in the league, my grandfather thought they were the extension of the dodgers: a new band of losers to urge towards an unlikely glory. When I was old enough to choose my favorite team, my father and grandfather made it clear that I could choose any team I liked… as long as it wasn't the Yankees. They needn’t have worried, the Mets were my natural choice. I loved my grandfather too much to make any other choice.

If I’m to be honest, it is my love for the man, not for the team, which leads me to continue my fandom. More Wile E. Coyote than Charlie Brown, the current Mets are the unlovable losers of Major League Baseball. They spend more money and gain less in return than any team in the league. They sell their home grown stars and sign overpriced mercenaries from others. They have no defining trait, no real identity. For me, the Mets appeal is my grandfather. That and “the streak”.

Perhaps the most coveted accomplishment in baseball is the no-hitter. To record one, a pitcher must record 27 outs without giving up a hit. It is exceptionally difficult and rare. This year, there were 4860 starts and only 3 no-hitters among them. That’s fewer than one per 1000. Still, despite their rarity, almost every team has at least one on their record books. Up until June 1, 2012, the Mets had never thrown one. The streak was a whisper from the past, some measure of perfection the team could strive for, but never quite touch.

In every form of competition there is an ideal, a bar that stands above the rest. In pub trivia, like in baseball, it is the perfect game. You try to answer every question correctly, and sometimes you come close, but you always seem to trip when you come close. Needless to say, our team has never reached that particular peak. This week we flew through the first two sets of questions without as much as a second guess. In each game, there are 86 possible points: 6 rounds containing 3 questions, one halftime question, and one final question. I usually don’t even consider the possibility unless we get through halftime unscathed, but this week I had perfection on my mind.

The second question of the third round was “Name the president who started the President’s Council on Fitness”. We were reasonably sure the answer was Reagan or Carter. We went with Reagan. Unfortunately, the correct answer was Dwight Eisenhower. The reason the perfect game is so elusive is that no matter what you do know, there’s bound to be a question you misinterpret or flat can't answer. Once in a while, you’ll make a good guess or luck your way into a correct answer. It’s funny that in a game that is almost exclusively about facts there remains so much uncertainty. There is a lot of luck involved. Our own streak of futility continued.

We missed a few other questions over the course of the six rounds, including this one: “In response to the stamp act of 1765, who said “If this be treason, make the most of it”. (We guessed John Hancock, the answer was Patrick Henry). Embarrassingly we also thought that all bullfrogs were male. However, before the final question we led, once again, by a single point. Although, as I pointed out in my last entry, some large swings can and do happen, leading, even by a single point, is quite advantageous. Simply, if we knew the final question, we would win.

The last question was this: “What current Major League Baseball team that entered the league in 1969 is the only franchise to never throw a no-hitter”? Of course, the first answer I came up with was the New York Mets, but Johan Santana had, at last, broken their streak of futility on June 1^st 2012 and beside, the Mets came into the league in 1962. We began to think about other possible answers and quickly came up with the San Diego Padres.

I’d heard so often, watching another listless performance by my Mets, they were one of two teams who had never thrown a no-hitter, but I couldn’t quite remember that other team. When my teammate suggested the Padres, however, a bell went off in my head. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was likely to be the correct answer. This week we knew betting the maximum had to be the right move. The answer was too easy to figure out, many teams were likely to get the right answer, and we felt confident in our guess.

There was no suspense. After we handed in our answer we checked the answer and knew that we had it. Coming through by the skin of your teeth is certainly a more thrilling way to win, winning by guile rather than brute force. There is something to be said, however, for the sure thing. It is a lesser degree of perfection I think. And, for this week at least, it was enough.

Halftime Question:

On October 29, 1993 these are the top 4 songs on the Billboard Top 100 name each artist:

1.       “Dreamlover”

2.       “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I won’t Do That)”

3.       “Whoomp, There It Is”

4.       “The Sign”