I tell you, I was sitting here alone with my wife downstairs. When the final strikeout was recorded, I put my hands together for what I thought would be a clap. It extended into three claps. "That's enough" I thought, but my hands wouldn't stop going. "There's nobody here for your claps to be speaking to" I thought, but it felt better and better to keep going and going. Twenty, thirty claps, all alone, for no reason. Something just kept pouring out of me. Very strange, acting the fan at a level I never knew I had, never knew existed. Only comparable moments would be the Agbayani homer and the Ventura homer, both watched at home, but even those I had my wife beside me and the TV in front of me. For me and Johan, it was just the dark night and the radio --- and 40 years of fandom.