Like this one. It’s my favorite moment in human history. All the things that had to converge for the Mets to win the World Series. They were in last place. Every single season until they won it all….That baseball for instance. Thrown for the last out in game five. Manufactured in 1962 by the spalding factory of Chickapee, Massachusetts, was aerodynamically flawed. Due to the horse hide being improperly tanned because Shelia, the tanners wife, left him for a Puerto Rican golf pro that Sunday…When that ball is pitched to Davy Johnson, who only became a baseball player because his father couldn’t find a football to give him for his eighth birthday, and hits his baseball bat two micrometers too high causing him to pop-up to Celmon Jones. Who could have been born Clara. A statistical typist. If he parents didn’t have an extra glass of wine that night before going to bed.
A miracle is what seems impossible but happens anyway.