On September 6, 2008, the Toronto Blue Jays were far from contention–much further then the visiting Rays who were beating them 4-3 with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the 13th. On the way to the plate was Gregg Zaun, a guy known more for his longevity and character than his .237 batting average. But the momentum was in his favor, and the timing seemed just right. Maybe this time, the catcher who’d spent the season being reduced and most of his career backing up a starter would make himself more than “the alternative to Rod Barajas.”
13 innings is a long time to wait for a hero. But 13 years is a long time to wait for a chance.
A month before, the snap of Evan Longoria’s wrist–courtesy of J.J. Putz–had been an abysmal fracture of the Rays hopes, morosely ushering their Rookie of the Year onto the disabled list. Today, he was back, and his glorious return made the late season contest between a World Series bound squad of youngsters and the basically erased batch of Blue Jays all the more redundant.
As the backup catcher, Gregg Zaun had spent the year next to the likes of Frank Thomas, a slugger with his best slugs behind him, and Jose Bautista, whose surprisingly best slugs were yet to come. Gregg had watched his right elbow go up in inflammation in May, then, upon Cito Gaston’s re-arrival to Toronto, he soon found himself with an even slimmer slice of playing time behind Rod Barajas. He wanted more. They wanted less. He wanted out.
But by September, the trade deadline was a forgotten cause, and like it or not, Zaun and the Jays were stuck with each other. Especially sticky was the situation they found themselves in that early September afternoon. An autumn revival had seen Toronto fluster opponents for six games in a row; uncharacteristic for a squad on its way to finishing fourth in the AL East for three years straight. Today, their early 3-0 lead had been devoured alive by a school of ravenous Rays, and it seemed in all likelihood that a seventh consecutive win, resting on the lumber of a career backup who only a few months before had requested a trade, was lost.
Gregg entered the box facing the cuddly Troy Percival. A lonely banner in right field reading “YOURS IS A BLAST!” hung lifeless and still. The fifteenth minute of the game’s fifth hour ticked by. Percival stepped to throw. Zaun ducked out of the box, giving one of the announcers the chance to comment on the importance of John McDonald’s lead off second base.
“You really want to work on your secondary lead,” he said, “so that you can score on a base hit.”
Onward came the 93 mph Percival special. Gregg met it at the door and sent it skyward with a raucous thunk, craning the remainder of the 34,649 necks in attendance. Percival spun around to watch. Gregg was still in the batter’s box spectating. A tremendous collective gasp sucked the air out of the Rogers Centre.
“–because the outfielders are not deep,” the announcer was finishing.
Gregg’s knock landed where it needed to to win the game and then some in spectacular fashion. Thanks to a grand slam from the back up catcher, the Jays won their seventh–on their way to ten in a row–and the Rays left Toronto with a broom on their heels.
Throughout his career, Gregg has been a backup, a starter, a mentor, and a hero. He’s not going to be on a Hall of Fame ballot and he’s probably going to be… maybe not forgotten, but probably not remembered. He was a journeyman, playing on nine different team, one of them twice, and would have rounded it out to ten had he made the Padres squad out of Spring Training. He’s never been considered for any award, except a World Series ring. He made the Orioles look ridiculous by trading him for Terry Matthews. And he’s been granted so much free agency he’s probably got the paper work memorized. But after an exhibition game with the A’s this past week, Gregg walked into Bud Black’s office and retired himself.
But that one day in Canada, when he blew up the Rogers Center with a walkoff grand slam, rounding the bases with his fist in the air and his legs a blur, soon to be greeted at home plate by a bouncing collection of teammates who hadn’t spent much of ’08 in mid-bounce, his name was recalled again and again.
“Way to go, Zauny,” the game analyst said as Gregg high-fived and hugged his way back to the dugout.
And, as it is when an athlete retires who wasn’t so legend or so despicable or so both that ESPN covers them for a month and a half, Gregg will get a pat on the back and a brief retrospective. Much like his legacy, his feat that afternoon was addressed, celebrated, and then, the world kept turning.
“A grand slam walkoff… Toronto 7, Tampa Bay 4,” the announcers recapped. “The Blue Jays have won seven straight–and soccer’s coming up on CBC Sports.”