Everybody wants to witness history being made on a baseball field.
That is why we watch the games, right?
We watch everyday with the hope that today will be a day something special happens. We hope for wins and personal records and championships.
We watch game in and game out all summer to say we were along for the whole ride to the championship, whenever that may be.
We always cheer for our teams, no matter what.
Here is the dilemma: Does our sense of seeing baseball history override the loyalty to a particular team when that particular team is being no-hit?
The answer is tricky.
Santana allowed a base runner in the first when Ezequiel Carrera reached on an error. Carrera later scored on a wild pitch giving Cleveland a 1-0 lead.
With the exception of a late-inning walk to Lonnie Chisenhall, that was all the Indians could muster against Santana.
He was dominating.
In the eighth, I was still strongly hoping for an Indian rally and a win. The Tribe were only a game back after all.
When the ninth inning rolled around, I was torn.
When the bottom of the ninth started, I didn't know what to think.
The Indians were trailing 3-1 in an important late-July game against a very good Angels team.
Sure, I would love a win and probably jump around and go crazy if they could come back and win in dramatic fashion.
But, as each out mounted, I became a little more desensitized to the outs and more interested in Ervin Santana's bid for a no-hitter.
I hated seeing the Indian hitters get mowed down like a little league team by Santana, and really, truly, held out hope until that last inning that they could win this game, but I was also happy for Santana.
It isn't everyday you can watch a no-hitter from start to finish.
There are usually between one and three no-hitters a year, so the odds of someone watching one of those particular games from inning one through inning nine is very slim.
What is proper etiquette in ninth inning like this?
Had the Indians been down by five runs, I probably would be shamefully been cheering for Santana to get the no-no.
Games like that come around rarely, the Indians could rattle off three in a row this weekend, and all would be forgotten, right?
If I were there in person at Progressive Field, I probably would have been depressed for eight and a half innings, and then once it became real, I probably would have bragged to everybody I knew that I witnessed a no-hitter in person and showed off that ticket stub every where I went.
If this game had been in late August or September, it would likely be a different story too. The pennant race would be heated up a bit. There wouldn't still be over 50 games left.
I realize a game in July counts the same as a game in April or September, but late-season games in a tight race hold extra importance.
Wednesday's game seemed like a bigger blowout than it was. It was a two-run game, and most Indians fans were probably hoping for another miraculous comeback by the Tribe.
Once it became apparent that a comeback wasn't going to happen (and it did become apparent to anybody who watched those eighth and ninth inning at-bats by Indian hitters), more and more faces at Progressive Field seemed to lighten up at the prospect of a no-hitter, even at the cost of an Indians loss.
Some may have felt that a no-hitter would actually be good for the Indians in the long run. Maybe it would open the front office's eyes to the problems the Indians were facing at the plate. Who knows?
What would you do if your team were being no-ht in a game like this?
Everything depends on circumstance; I understand that.
But is there ever an instance in which it is okay to submit to defeat and cheer for history? In a playoff game, definitely not (right Reds fans?). But, what about in a July game?
History or one win?
Usually I'd rather have my team win than anything, but sometimes I wonder.