All hail the walk-off king of Fenway Park. Beth was there:

... It was like a movie, where the action goes into slow motion and all sound is replaced by a seashell roar. If I close my eyes, I can still see that ball, so clear against a flat black night sky that I swear I could see the red blur of its stitches as it passed.

The reaction overtook us like a breaking wave, spreading out from the epicenter of the fans with the best view in the corner to the sections around them, and so on, until the chaos crashed over our heads, too, subsuming us in dancing, shouting, laughing, hugging. ...

In the comfort of his living room, Red exults:

... It seemed like a lifetime since I'd seen the guys scrambling toward the plate in a mad dash, throwing themselves around Papi with wild abandon. But, man, watching it unfold again is like slipping on a pair of comfortable shoes, finding an extra twenty in your back pocket, and learning your favorite hooker just happens to be available the night you're in Minnesota. It feels good.

Flip the coin and it would have been hellfire and Rob Schneider, 24/7. ...