“That can’t be how it ends.”
That was among the notable phrases uttered as Drew Smyly’s perfect game was squandered amid one of the biggest — and funniest — forms of miscommunication you’d ever see.
The 33-year-old Smyly, coming off one of his most effective seasons as a full-time starting pitcher, put forth his finest effort yet in his fourth start of the season.
The Chicago Cubs’ lefty pitched seven perfect innings, and began the eighth facing Dodgers outfielder David Peralta while maintaining a 13-0 lead.
Peralta smacked a dribbler down the third base line, and Smyly and Cubs catcher Yan Gomes simultaneously tried to make a play on the ball to throw him out at first.
As Smyly pivoted, reached down to grab the ball and throw Peralta out at first — he seemingly had the best play on the ball — Gomes attempted to, at the last second, get out of Smyly’s sightline and remove himself from the play entirely.
The result was the 6-foot-2, 212-pound Gomes essentially tackling his pitcher as they both immediately collapsed onto the field and wallowed in the gravity of the blown perfect game.
That can’t be how it ends — as was said on the broadcast — but oh yes, it is.
Smyly was evaluated after the play by manager David Ross and an athletic trainer, but rebounded to complete a one-hit effort in 7 2/3 innings pitched en route to a 13-0 Cubs victory.
“I was gonna ride him harder than Yan did,” Ross joked after the game.
Gomes took the miscue in stride, donning a Cubs-branded football helmet to speak with reporters.
“I guess he didn’t think he was going to be recovering a fumble today, let me tell you that,” he said, stopping for a moment to address the silence in front of his locker. “That was supposed to be a joke!
“It’s an agreessive play, both of us went after it. It just came to the point where both of us wanted it, he got to it before I did. I’m not as quick as I used to be jumping out of the way, and I just ended up riding him and becoming a cool picture.”
One that will be a reminder of Smyly’s best effort, complete with his batterymate.
Unless, of course, he could replicate this performance one day — maybe without the last part.