There are two things I'll never forget about witnessing the Mother's Day Miracle (aside from how the game ended, of course): how bitterly cold I was, in standing room for most of the game on the first base side of the State Street Pavilion, and seeing D'Angelo Ortiz.
Because my friend Iain and I were frozen and tired, we decided not to go walk on the basepaths after the game*, and thus, it was by sheer stroke of luck that we still caught sight of D'Angelo that day.
At the last moment, though, lingering in the grandstand standing room area before leaving the park, we spotted a tiny figure at the plate in a red Ortiz jersey. His halo of springy curls was already unmistakable, given he'd already begun appearing in public with his Papi from time to time.
He was standing at the plate when we saw him that Mother's Day, looking in the general direction of the pitcher's mound, holding his empty hands as if he had a bat. "Huh," I said. "I guess he's a righty."
Then he turned around.
"Nope," I laughed, thinking it was a joke. "Switch-hitter."
Turns out it's not such a joke anymore.
