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The Cincinnati Reds
Monday, October 04, 1999

Reds' win was worth the wait




BY TIM SULLIVAN
The Cincinnati Enquirer

[vaughn]
Greg Vaughn watches his 3-run HR.
(AP photo)
| ZOOM |
        MILWAUKEE — The wait was worth it. The weight is reduced.

        The Cincinnati Reds spent five hours and 47 minutes Sunday waiting out the rain for a game they had to have. They sat around their cramped clubhouse at County Stadium, trying not to ponder the pressure, trying not to be burdened by a game of baseball.

        They were cornered, and yet cocky, like the 101st Airborne at Bastogne, like Butch and Sundance in Bolivia. And then, at last, they went out to prove their worth and prolong their season with a 7-1 blitz of the Milwaukee Brewers.

        Maybe it all ends now, with today's wild-card playoff with the New York Mets. Maybe 96 Reds victories begets only 96 tears. Maybe Bobby Valentine's big-budget, big-town team will send the Reds packing tonight at Cinergy Field. Maybe that's a more merciful ending than a best-of-five playoff series with the daunting Atlanta Braves.

        But if this is all there is — if Game 163 is as far as these Reds go — there should be no regrets. Jack McKeon's roster of reclamation projects and kids, built on a budget that amounts to tip money in New York, has broken the monotony of postseason baseball. Money still matters, but no longer exclusively.

Right chemistry
        The Reds have proved that young talent and warhorses can be a wonderful blend; that the right chemistry can compensate for the wrong payroll; that a team given a taste of success can find the means to win more.

        Here was Pete Harnisch, formerly of the scrap heap, taking a shutout into the sixth inning with a shoulder that could have shelved him months ago. Here was Pokey Reese, finishing his first season at second base, dancing around the puddles as gracefully as Gene Kelly. Here was Greg Vaughn, Mr. September, taking all the tension out of an October night with a three-run homer.

        Here was a Reds team that could have collapsed — that could have regarded the earlier results from Houston and New York as a sign of a stacked deck — making the Brewers look as if they had mailed it in.

        On balance, the weekend did not go well. The Reds reached Milwaukee with a shot at a division title and a chance for a clear-cut playoff clinching. The champagne was on ice before Friday's 10-inning loss to the Brewers. Then it was packed away as too presumptuous.

        But even after the Reds stumbled again Saturday, losing their third straight game and control of their destiny, it was impossible to perceive panic.

        “We'll win tomorrow,” vowed third baseman Aaron Boone. "We'll win. We've got Pete (Harnisch) going. I think everyone will come expecting to win. Simple as that.”

Right moves
        Sure enough, when the Reds finally came out of their clubhouse and onto the field, they conveyed confidence and purpose. Dmitri Young slipped in a puddle in pursuit of a first-inning pop fly, but the elegant Reese got there to grab it. After that, it was sure footing, smooth sailing and Brewer bashing.

        Milwaukee starter Cal Eldred opened the third inning by allowing consecutive singles to Harnisch, Reese, Barry Larkin and Sean Casey. Then Vaughn smashed a 2-and-1 pitch into the empty bleachers in left field and it was 5-0.

        Pressure? What pressure?

        Later, when the Reds' lead had reached 7-0, Larkin would throw his bat into the dugout in disgust after a ninth-inning foulout. The gesture seemed strange, given the score, but it was also indicative of an attitude of high standards and higher expectations.

        Because the games get progressively bigger from here, because Sunday's game ended early Monday morning, because only a few hundred fans were still there at the end, this must-win will likely fade from memory before Jack McKeon lights his next cigar.

        Too bad. This one was worth savoring. It was worth celebrating. It was well worth the wait.

        E-mail Tim Sullivan at tsullivan@enquirer.com.

       



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