What is a Perfect Game Really Worth Anyway?

Jason Donald was out.  Joyce got the call wrong.  He acted classy in admitting it.  Armando Galarraga was very classy in not making a big deal about it.  That’s all known.

But really, what is the big deal here?  Galarraga, in his heart, knows he threw a perfect game (some joked that he had the first 28-batter perfect game).  It was the 27th out, which makes it even more black-and-white (if this gaffe were in the fourth inning, one could make the argument that the course of history would have changed and who would know if he’d retire everything else).  The fans know they saw a perfect game.  Hell, even the players think it was a perfect game.

So what are we missing here?  The great celebration on the field?  The non-stop cheering from the crowd? Galarraga’s name in a record book?  Sure, those are all tangible things, and I’m sure many will feel cheated, but  the Tigers still won and Galarraga can be satisfied in knowing it wasn’t his fault or the fault of a teammate what happened.  Like I said, he knows he threw a perfect game – isn’t that enough?  Maybe I’m just being naive.

As for "The Call" (and it should be capitalized), I keep thinking of Joyce as the worst kid on the little league team in a clutch situation – "Please don’t hit it to me.  Please don’t hit it to me."  He surely knew it was batter #27, and if I were him, I’d be thinking "anywhere close and it’s an out.  Out, out, out, out, out, out, out, out."  How "safe" came from him in that situation is the most baffling thing to me.

Also: Donald.  At what point today (and maybe it’s already started), does the backlash against him begin?  "It’s an unwritten rule that if you’re the 27th batter in a perfect game that you don’t run hard to first!"  Someone will say it, and while I don’t believe that b.s., I guess I’ll be the first anyway.