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Baseball, more than any other game, has a way of reminding us that nothing is ever truly over until the last out is in the books. And on a crisp October afternoon in Milwaukee, the St. Louis Cardinals were one out away—just one—from pulling off what would have been a monumental upset.
Leading 7–5, the Cardinals had the Brewers teetering, 47,000 fans holding their breath, and the shadows growing long at American Family Field. But then, with the count in his favor, Juan Flores—big, broad-shouldered, patient in the box—turned on a pitch and sent it screaming into the night. A two-run homer, majestic in flight, arcing toward right, and suddenly the game was tied. The ballpark, quiet a heartbeat earlier, roared back to life.
And just like that, the inevitable feeling crept in. For as baseball so often does, it shifted from near-certainty to chaos, from heartbreak to elation. Moments later, Fernando Cruz, who had been a steady hand for Milwaukee all series long, laced a double into the gap. Flores crossed the plate, arms raised, and the Brewers had walked it off—8–7, winners not only of the game, but of the series.
For St. Louis, anguish. For Milwaukee, jubilation. And for those of us watching, a reminder of why October baseball holds such a singular place in the American imagination. One pitch away from despair, another from ecstasy—and on this day, both belonged to the Brewers.
Next, Milwaukee will move on to face the Los Angeles Dodgers in the Division Series. But long after this postseason has faded into the archives, Cardinal fans will remember the sting of being one out away, and Brewer fans will remember the moment when Juan Flores turned October into magic.
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