The Importance of Closing

A lot of people think the responsibility of closing out a game in the ninth inning lies squarely on the closer's shoulders. It's a "buck stops here" kind of mentality. You've got one guy out there dealing to the opposition with his team three outs away from getting the W.

Win, lose or draw, that one man sent out there in the ninth inning becomes the lightning rod for praise or ire. Bottom line, these people say, is that the closer is responsible for everything that happens out there.

In 2005, the Mets sent Braden Looper out there whenever they needed to close out a win. He would go on the mound with his 94 mph 2-seamer and save the game 75% of the time.

Braden was skilled but not dominant. Simply put, the guy wasn't a closer.

Still, every game Braden would make his pitches and the umpire, who probably has a bigger impact on Braden's night than anyone else, calls the pitch a ball or a strike.

Braden can do his best to make his pitch, but in the end, the only person that can call it a strike is good old Blue. On a fundamental level, it is the umpire who is the true arbiter of worth.

This year we have Billy Wagner at the back end. Wags is a guy who has shown he can get it done. At the same time, just like with Poops, all Billy Wagner can do is try and make his pitch and in the end, hope the ump calls it a strike.

Why this simple rundown on the closer, the umpire, and balls and strikes?

Because Monday was my day to shine.

The lyrics of Eminem's "Lose Yourself" ran constantly through my mind.

"You only got one shot/ do not miss your chance to blow,/ cause opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo!"

I was fired up. My adrenaline was flowing unlike it had in quite sometime. I needed to finish. In 2005 I was Braden Looper: I was solid but didn't have the experience or the demeanor that a closer needs. In the end, I came up short. We lost.

But next year is now for young Sip.

Conditions were perfect. 70 degrees and Sunny, Maciej and Danny D cheering me on. I stood there at 2 p.m. hopping up and down. A little of Maciej's spaghetti on my T, but I was calm and ready just the same. This was my time to become one of the greats.

The umpire arrived, he was a 5'8 asian dude who didn't speak great English. He looked at me, I looked at him. This was gametime and we were both very, very serious.

I could not resort to my 2005 form. I needed to become a superstar.

ABC I thought: Always Be Closing.

2:20 p.m. -- It's just me, the clear blue sky, and the umpire, and the game is nearing its conclusion. It's the 9th inning, we're three outs away, and I am feeling as loose as ever.

"Turn right at the corner," he said... STRIKE 1!

"Switch into the left hand lane now"... Strike 2!

The crowd is on its feet. I can smell the victory and man does it smell sweet. I think about my parents and how long they have waited for this day. I think about all my friends who told me that this day would never happen. I think about our close family friend Joel, an older brother type for me who is 28, banking his way to god knows how much money but still has never made it to the level that I was slowly approaching.

0-2 Count, 2 outs, bottom of the ninth.

"Please pull over and turn off your engine." He struck him out! He struck him out! And the Mets win it. The Mets win the ball game! The Mets win! They win!"

I could see my fans with big smiles on their faces. I did it.

So on Monday, young Sip became a man. At 2:45 p.m. PT, my Asian pal signed over the piece of paper. And with that, I became a licensed driver.

There are a lot of people I want to thank. First and formost, Jesus Christ, who I could feel guiding my arms at every turn.

My mom and dad, brother. Friends, family. D Wright, Andres Biedrins. My agent Jon Zimelis over at Gersh. Without you guys I never could have done it. God... I know I'm forgetting somebody!

Keanu.

Without you, Keanu, none of this would have ever been possible. You are my light. My biggest inspiration. Thank you.

If not for me putting on the windshield wipers when the umpire asked me to make a left turn signal, this could have been a 9 pitch inning. Either way, I emerged today. I finally came out of my shell.

And I'll tell you this, If Sippy Momo can get a driver's license, then the Mets can win the whole fucking thing.

VCD,

SM

PS.. Whoever posted that comment yesterday, you make a very well thought out and insightful point. I will look into it more later this week.