Ryan Loren: Being history adjacent isn't so bad

One day I can tell my kids and grandkids about how I almost saw history.

I’ll gather them all together one Christmas morning. Prop a grandkid up on my lap maybe. And I’ll weave a not-so-intricate tale about the day Miguel Cabrera made history with his 3,000th hit.

I'll set the scene just right.

Three days earlier Cabrera picked up his 2,999th hit and the anticipation started to build. Everybody knew he would reach that magic number eventually, but when and where remained mystery.

Finally, the day arrives. The sun is shining on a warm spring afternoon. Birds chirping, a warm breeze blowing. Like a moment out of a storybook. As the Hall of Famer walks up to the plate, the crowd of over 37,500 rise to their feet.

On 1-1 count in the bottom of the first inning against the Colorado Rockies, the man affectionately known as Miggy swings at a 95 mph inside fastball and lines it low through an infield gap to rightfield.

Miggy knows it instantly. He points, he celebrates. The crowd cheers. Even players from the Rockies run to give him hugs. His own teammates pour out of the dugout. In tears, his family is led down onto the field.

It’s a moment for the history books.

“Wow!” One of my grandkids might say. “And you were there?”

“Almost,” I’ll respond, beaming with a sort of sad pride. “Almost.”

That’s right kids. I was history adjacent.

I should have been there.

Weeks earlier, a friend of mine offered me an extra ticket to a game on Friday, April 22, 2022 – the day before Miggy's famous moment. At the time, I hadn't given much thought to how that might line up with Cabrera's quest for history.

But as the day approached, it was obvious that there might be a chance that the stars would align.

On April 19, Cabrera was five hits away. He got one that day.

Four hits away.

The next day, against the Yankees, he started the game 3-for-3.

One hit away.

I watched every at-bat and was selfishly elated when he struck out in the eighth inning. I only needed to sweat one more game and I would be at Comerica Park.

The next day, he went hitless in his first three at bats.

Still one hit away.

Adult responsibilities pulled me away from the game as I hopped in my car to pick up my kids from school. Not a problem. I'll just listen on the radio.

I picked them up and drove to Meijer. There were some items we needed to buy, but it would have to wait. Miggy's at-bat was coming up. For too long, I sat in the parking lot, half listening to two kids restlessly clamoring to get out the heck out of the car and half to the dulcet sound of Dan Dickerson's voice.

And then the Yankees did the unthinkable. They chose to intentionally walk Miggy in his final at-bat.

Is this fate? It seems like fate.

But no.

Rain and storms swept through Detroit on the night fate had seemingly arranged for me. My game was postponed, but not before I drove all the way to Detroit with the slimmest of hopes the weather would hold.

The game was rescheduled for Saturday as part of a doubleheader. The SECOND game of the doubleheader.

Maybe fate really did arrange the moment for somebody to witness history. But it clearly wasn't for me.

I didn't watch the first game. I couldn't.

I went for a run instead. I came home to my wife standing outside.

"He got it," was all that she said to me.

I swear I heard the sound of a sad trombone off in the distance.

I still went to the second game of the doubleheader.

The Tigers collected 20 hits and won 13-0 in the first game. They had six hits and lost 3-2 when I was there.

Ace-of-the-future Tarik Skubal pitched one of the finest games of his young career for the Tigers in the first game. I got to watch Beau Brieske pitch instead. Who? Exactly.

Miggy had hits No. 3,000 and No. 3,001 in the first game. Each hit was historic – hit 3,001 moved him ahead of Roberto Clemente on the all-time list. I got to see hit No. 3,002.

I'm sure history is filled with people who were adjacent to incredible moments.

Like the woman who walked up to the Lincoln Memorial just minutes after Martin Luther King Jr. gave his famous speech. Or the man in Florida who overslept on the morning of the Apollo 11 launch.

People who just missed out on the chance to be a part of something.

People who can say, "I was ALMOST there!"

A rare and forgotten lot.

What a special group to be a part of.

Readers can contact Ryan by e-mail rloren@monroenews.com.

This article originally appeared on The Monroe News: Ryan Loren: Being history adjacent isn't so bad