I had somewhere to run to Wednesday night, and just before I got in my car I checked my phone and saw a notification that the Orioles’ Dylan Bundy was perfect against the Rockies through five innings.
“Hot damn,” I thought, “I’ll have to listen to the game in the car!”
So I’m in my car trying to figure out which XM channel the Orioles game was on. By the time I found the game, the Orioles radio announcers were talking about how Bundy had walked former Oriole Mark Reynolds to lose the perfect game.
At that point, I should’ve realized what I was doing to Bundy’s chances and gotten out of there like Shaggy and Scooby after seeing a ghost. But no, I said “He’s still got the no-no!” and I kept on listening.
So naturally, on what was the second or third pitch I heard, Nick Hundley… another former Oriole…
…hits it out of the park. Goodbye no-hitter, goodbye shutout. Two batters later, Bundy gave up David Dahl’s first MLB homer, and that was it for Bundy. The Orioles ended up losing 3-1 and Bundy took the loss.
I’m sorry Dylan.
I have this incredible track record of jinxing perfection as soon as I become aware of it. I’ve been bowling in leagues for over 20 years, and I couldn’t tell you how many times I heard someone say something along the lines of “Hey, check out Frank’s score” and no sooner do I look up to see that Frank’s line on the scoring computer looks like this:
FRANK | X | X | X | X | X | X | X | X | X |
…when Frank throws a 7-10 split. It’s the Shlabotnik curse. I become aware of perfection, it ceases to be perfect.
Last year I was at a minor league baseball game, and both pitchers were pitching really well, only the visiting pitcher had a slightly rocky start before getting into a groove. Even though I was keeping score, I only knew I was watching a pitcher’s duel with a lot of K’s, I wasn’t aware of what was going on until I hear the guy behind me say “He has a no-hitter going”. I mentally went “Whuuuh?”, looked at the scoreboard, looked at my scorebook, sure enough… no hits and working through the 5th inning. Two batters later, a ground ball between the shortstop and third baseman, no more no hitter.
So this is your opportunity to tell me about your similar stories, or perhaps to gloat about how you’re not an instant curse like I am.
How far into a no-hitter have you ever seen a pitcher get?
Full disclosure: I did eventually see someone bowl a 300 game.