“There isn’t going to be another out.”

I am writing to you on Sunday morning from Seattle, where last evening (Saturday) Ben, my daughter Melissa, my grandson Enzo and I joined the King’s Court, trying to coax one more good game out of Felix Hernandez.

When Enzo heard Felix would be pitching, he broke my heart. “Not him!” Enzo moaned. “He’s old. I want to see someone good, like that big guy with freckles who pitched last time.”

I don’t know who the big guy with freckles is.  But to see my own kin not realize the value in hailing and farewelling King Felix… I knew we had some work to do.

Just as we came up the stairs from the entrance at the corner of Edgar and Dave, a ceremony was beginning on the field. Edgar Martinez and Ken Griffey, Jr. were being introduced to the crowd.  As we made our way to our seats, a Mariners official read a citation lauding Ichiro Suzuki.  As we took our seats — Enzo sitting next to the field, a row in front of and four feet outside of the foul pole in left — Ichiro was reading a very nice response.

A veteran of the King’s Court, sitting in front of us, told us how to get our free yellow King’s Court shirts.  Enzo’s was way too big for him, but he wore it happily.

Enzo was thrilled to get to see Edgar in person. He appreciated seeing Griffey and Ichiro, too.  Now if only he could see why we call Felix Hernandez the King, the fourth-greatest True Mariner (since Randy Johnson and Alex Rodriguez betrayed us).

And Felix came through.  He didn’t dominate like the old days, but he kept the White Sox off the board.  Wolverine Eloy Jimenez was his first strikeout to lead off the second inning. Twice more Jimenez went out meekly to Felix. For seven innings, Felix bobbed and weaved and kept the Sox off the board.  In the sixth he loaded the bases with one out.  The Sox scored when the M’s couldn’t quite turn a slow grounder to second into a double play. But that was all they could manage against the King.

Felix left the game after seven innings, tied 1 – 1. (Hot Sox prospect and ex-Wolverine Dylan Cease had shut down the M’s, except for Shed Long’s wall-scraping homer.) Neither team scored in the eighth. In the top of the ninth, Eloy Jimenez singled, and went to second and third on successive wild pitches. But the M’s stranded him there.

It was getting late for Enzo, so we agreed we’d stay for the 10th, but that would be it.

The White Sox went quietly in the 10th.

After two even meeker outs in the bottom of the inning, Melissa began packing up. “Are we leaving?” asked Enzo.

“Yes, after this next out,” she replied.

“There isn’t going to be another out,” I said quietly.

“What did Grandpa say?” asked Enzo.

“He doesn’t think there are going to be any more outs,” explained Melissa. “He thinks this batter is going to hit a home run.”

I started to say, “or at least a single, so Vogelbach can hit a homer” when Omar Narvaez drove a ball high high high to right. The crowd gasped, then roared.  The Sox right fielder went back to the wall, waited, waited, and timed his leap.

The leap came up short.

The ball hit right on top of the wall, bounced high in the air, and came down into the center fielder’s glove.  Narvaez stopped at second, but the umpire, well out in right center field, was signaling for a home run.  The crowd roared even louder as Narvaez finished his circuit of the bases, but I told Melissa “Wait. The Sox will demand a review.”

But the Sox didn’t ask for a review.  The call stood.  There were no more outs.

Felix didn’t get the win, but he got a yellow-shirted fan who will turn 8 in November. Old enough to remember for the rest of the century the night King Felix pitched a gem and the M’s won when his Grandpa promised a miracle.

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