Seldom has the pressure of a pennant battle crept up so surreptitiously behind one solitary man, putting him squarely at the strategic and emotional eye of the storm, the way the devious sport has snuck up on 40-year-old Tom Glavine in recent weeks.
As he took the mound Thursday night to open the National League Championship Series against St. Louis, Glavine was on a familiar October stage. Between 1991 and 2002, he pitched in 22 separate postseason series as an Atlanta Brave, though with only modest success (13-15). Seldom has a man been so well prepared for a huge task, yet at the same time so ambushed by it.
In little more than two weeks, Glavine has been cast in the role of ace-by-default of a staggeringly depleted Mets rotation that has lost injured Pedro Martinez and Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez, who might've started the first two games. Tightening the screws on Glavine further, due to Thursday's rainout of Game 1, Glavine is now scheduled to start Game 5 in St. Louis on Sunday on just three days rest. Once, that was no problem. But it was a younger man in another city who relished such tasks. Now, after 635 consecutive starts, one of the longest streaks of durability in history, Glavine's arm needs all the rest it can get.
So, no worries, Tom. Just don't look over your shoulder at the rest of the Mets' rotation — veteran Steve Trachsel (a sub-.500 career record), rookie John Maine (eight career wins) and wild lefty Oliver Perez (3-13 — yes, 3-13 — this season).
Oh, the Mets have everything, all right — a wonderful lineup with speed, power, experience and youth, plus a deep bullpen anchored by Billy Wagner. Now, if they just had a genuine ace, somebody perhaps with 290 career wins, five 20-win seasons, two Cy Young Awards and a World Series MVP, who could inspire the makeshift starting staff and calm the whole team, these Mets might just end up in the World Series.
That's all Glavine had on his shoulders Thursday night, just all the hopes of the Mets who have waited so long to steal October from the miserable, mighty recently-departed Yankees. His job? Do what he did in the NL Division Series against the Dodgers when he won Game 2, 3-1, with six shutout innings. But, if possible, would you mind doing it twice against the Cardinals?
After all, is Trachsel going to beat Chris Carpenter in their meetings? How will Maine fare against the Cards' solid Jeff Suppan, whose 44-26 record in his three seasons in St. Louis is one of the game's totally overlooked bodies of work? In Game 4, is Perez suddenly going to rediscover the form that fanned 239 hitters for the Pirates in '04? Or will he disintegrate?
No, Mr. Glavine — studious adult, senior member of the player's union brain trust, master of the change-up and the fastball thrown precisely on the low outside corner — this fight for a pennant is probably about you as much, or more, than any one player.
Ever since the injuries to Martinez and Hernandez late last month, Glavine has talked about how he wanted to wipe away the taste of his last postseason as a Brave when he allowed a hideous 13 earned runs to the Giants in 7 2/3 innings in two defeats. Those brutal losses in the NLDS were part of the reason Glavine came to the Mets as a free agent — and why the Braves didn't fight to keep him.
"You don't like to leave [the playoffs] with a bad taste in your mouth," said Glavine after he'd shut down the Dodgers last week. "I've been on every side of the coin as far as [the postseason] goes. Certainly you feel better about your next start if you've pitched well previously."
So, Glavine entered Thursday feeling excellent about himself, a state of affairs that quickly got better as he retired the first seven in a row, two of them on one pitch and two others on just two pitches. Old pitchers love economy. For the magnificent Albert Pujols, the best hitter on the sphere, more work was required — four pitches, the last a change low for a weak-swinging third strike. No one, it seems, gave Glavine the memo that Pujols hit 49 homers this year with only 50 strikeouts.
Sometimes, when the stakes are high and the body might be a bit creaky, you need some dumb luck to survive. And the Mets lefty got some of that, too.
After the last two men in the Cards order, Yadier Molina and ex-Yankee pitcher Jeff Weaver, both hit sharp singles to right field with one out in the third, the St. Louis leadoff man David Eckstein smashed a hit-and-run line drive toward left field. At the least, the bases would usually be loaded with one out and sluggers Preston Wilson and Pujols due up. But this time Eckstein's liner found David Wright's glove at third base for an easy double play.
In the fourth, Pujols himself came to Glavine's aide. After working a walk, Pujols wandered much too far off first base on a routine out to center field and was doubled off base to end the inning.
How many free outs can you give a man who was 15-7 this season, had the 22nd best ERA in baseball (3.82) and made the All-Star team for the 10th time, thanks in part to a nine-game winning streak in mid-year? This season, in his march up the all-time victory list, Glavine passed Jim Kaat, Ferguson Jenkins, Robin Roberts, Bert Blyleven and Tommy John. Next year, with 11 wins, he'd pass Lefty Grove and Early Wynn to stand 21st in history, including all those fluky 19th century guys.
As melodrama would have it, the Mets did absolutely nothing against Weaver for the first five innings, managing only one single and no runs. So, Glavine had to match those zeros. With rain falling in the top of the sixth, the Met escaped the heart of the Cards' order after a one-out walk to Wilson, getting Pujols on a lucky line drive out to shortstop and cleanup man Juan Encarnacion on a routine fly to right.
Perhaps the Mets understood that, sooner or later, Glavine would crack if they didn't break through to help him. Finally, with two out and a man on first base in the bottom of the sixth, center fielder Carlos Beltran, the man whose eight-homer postseason in 12 games in '04 helped net him his $117 million New York contract, lived up to the deal he'd signed and the rep he'd earned with 41 homers this season. After a night of dribblers and pop-ups, Beltran lit the Shea Stadium fuse with one loud crack. His line drive cleared the 371-foot sign in right field and smashed the scoreboard near the picture of himself.
Beltran circles the bases to an enormous welcome from every Met at the dugout entrance. Every Met except one. Glavine, jacket on his pitching arm, sipping a cup of Gatorade, didn't move as the score jumped to 2-0. Instead, Beltran came to him, walking past and tapping him on the knee. Glavine nodded. If the movie had subtitles, it would have said, "Thanks, I needed that." And not much more.
Given his lead, Glavine buzzed through Scott Rolen, Jim Edmonds and Ronnie Belliard in a quick, efficient scoreless seventh inning to end his brilliant night's work. The final line on Glavine for the night will read seven innings, four hits, no runs, two walks, two strikeouts. Eighty-nine efficient pitches, 53 for strikes.
But the "book" as they say in the dugout, will be even simpler. On the great stages, the greatest players step forward.
When the doors of the Hall of Fame swing open someday for the greatest 300-win pitchers of this generation -- Roger Clemens and Greg Maddux -- don't forget to make way for a third immortal in that trio. In recent years, baseball has somehow misplaced the name and deeds of Tom Glavine from its collective consciousness. At 40, he'd drifted to the edges of the game.
Now he's back, at the very center. The Mets will go as far as he carries them. Next time, perhaps, on only three days rest.
