Lés Mis
Act I. AMERICAN BALL PARK. Milwaukee.
Enter JACOB MISIOROWSKI.
A towering protagonist armed with a thunderbolt for a right arm.
The PHILLIES, a proud company of batsmen, step forth one by one, only to disappear into the darkness.
Strike three.
Exit.
Strike three.
Exit.
Strike three.
Exit.
The audience begins to sense they are witnessing something extraordinary.
Act II.
Perfection beckons.
Twenty-seven outs stand before him.
Then, from the shadows emerges a villain.
KYLE SCHWARBER.
A single swing in the fourth inning.
A single baseball finds grass.
A single hit.
The perfect game is slain.
The crowd gasps.
The dream dies.
But the hero does not.
Act III.
Misiorowski answers with fury.
Fastballs scream through the night.
Whiffs pile up.
Strikeouts become inevitable.
The Phillies are reduced to spectators in their own tragedy.
When the final curtain falls, the ledger reads:
9 IP
1 H
0 BB
0 ER
15 K
95 pitches
A Maddux.
The most strikeouts ever recorded in one.
And though Schwarber denied perfection, he only changed the genre.
This was never meant to be a tragedy.
It was a fairy tale.
Lés Mis.
