Historic Cincinnati Comeback Offers A Stirring Testament To The Power Of Reds Week

So who believes in Reds Week? The Reds, you fools. The Cincinnati Freaking Reds. And all the rest of you cynical apostates do too. If you didn't know it before, you damned well know it now. And not just for historical, electoral, or tonsorial reasons, either. We're talking the here and now, because Defector is in constant communion with the gods of sport, and we get results. Proof? Proof, you ask? Try this: The Cincinnati Reds, our adopted baseball team until closing time tomorrow, did something that simply doesn't happen, ever. The only reason that it happened is because they felt our devotion and the power of our unified medullae oblongatae and rose to the moment. And also because the San Francisco Giants' bullpen blows half-chewed food all down its shirtfront on a regular basis, but that's not the way we're going to frame it. We know a good story when we make one up. Anyway, here's what the Reds did Wednesday afternoon in San Francisco. They built a seemingly insurmountable 3-9 deficit over eight full innings, in a game so riveting that the announced attendance of 24,130—itself one of the lowest at a Giants home game in this century, COVID conditions excepted—headed toward the street, the buses, the ferry boats, and the waiting fleet of embittered Lyft drivers before the ninth began, confident that they at least saw these utterly abject Giants earn their first three-game series sweep of the season ... until this happened.

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