April 24, 2005

Charleston, SC - In the beginning, back in January, when they gathered to practice in warm-up suits and on some days could see their breath as they zipped the ball around the infield and the aluminum bats were cold to the touch, nobody gave it much thought.

Nor did early February send any signs. The season started as most do, lost somewhere between the end of football and the crescendo of basketball. They were winning a few games, there even appeared to be a pattern. But nobody really gave it much thought.

In fact no one, not even their coach, thought the 1990 Citadel baseball team would be much different from those that had come before. They were picked to finish sixth in the eight-member Southern Conference where only seven schools play baseball.

So who'd a thunk it?

That this band of unlikely heroes would somehow put it all together and battle their way to the College World Series. Certainly not the media. Certainly not coach Chal Port, who gave his usual preseason assessment of rebuilding. Probably not even the players, a group of 35 cadets with only seven seniors on the roster, almost all of whom are from South Carolina or neighboring towns in Georgia and North Carolina.

They would go through their season, do their best, enjoy the camaraderie and be able to tell their sons about playing baseball at The Citadel many years from now. Nobody knew. Really. Nobody knew.

It wasn't until late February, maybe early March, when their headlines started getting a little larger, moving to the front page of the sports section. Bulldogs win 10th straight. Bulldogs win 12th straight. Bulldogs extend win streak.

Soon the television stations were showing up at College Park to get snippets of the moment for the evening news. Wins streaks are fun to follow. They give people something to talk about over lunch. How 'bout those Bulldogs?

And then the streak got serious. As they approached the school record, still winning, the pressure started building. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen straight. The school record was 22 straight. Now people were paying attention. And they broke it, eventually winning 26 straight before losing to Kent State. The ride was over. The TV cameras didn't come back for awhile. The team went into a mild slump, apparently returning to reality. Everybody could relax.

But the slump didn't last. The Bulldogs started winning again, this time with a little less hoopla. And by the end of the season they won the Southern Conference regular-season title going away. No contest. Interesting. And to make things more interesting, the conference tournament was coming to Charleston for the first time. The pressure was on again.

By this time, however, the warm spring breezes of April found a Citadel team that had genuinely come into its own. They were loose. They were having fun. They had nothing to lose. And they didn't.

They dominated the tournament, won four straight, and earned the right to travel to Miami for the Atlantic Regional. Everybody thought it would be a nice trip for the boys who had played so hard. Nobody thought they would have a chance.

But they did it again. Against unbelievable odds, they beat North Carolina State, East Carolina and the dreaded Miami Hurricanes twice to steal the regional crown and a trip to Omaha, Neb., for the College World Series.

So who'd a thunk it?

Nobody was more surprised by this time than Port, a veteran of 26 years of coaching Citadel baseball teams. He had seen teams with more potential go south. He had seen some with less do well. But he had never had a group like this.

By now the city of Charleston and the Palmetto State were getting a little giddy about this club. The Citadel, yes, The Citadel was in the College World Series. What a trip. What a story. Everybody thought it was great. Nobody thought they had a chance.

And when they arrived in the Midwest, they didn't. Not really. The other teams were loaded. Real contenders. The Bulldogs were just an aberration, a novelty. The only military school to ever make it to the final eight. Everybody talked about how they had to march and what great manners the boys had and how Port was one of the funniest, most entertaining coaches around.

They lost their first game to Louisiana State, 8-2. People thought, that's OK, at least they made it this far. Nobody expected them to do anything anyway. One more loss and they're gone. They made a good showing. Got on ESPN.

Then they played the game of their lives. Trailing Cal State Fullerton 4-1 going into the seventh inning, they rallied. Port did some of his magic coaching and strained every ounce of talent and ability of his team. They won, 8-7, in a 12-inning drama that few will forget.

So they had done it. They had at least won a game in Omaha, proving they belonged, that they weren't a fluke. One more loss and they'd be coming home.

It came the next night, against LSU, again. This time it was 6-1, a loss relayed back to fans by radio because ESPN couldn't show it live due to its major-league obligation. It was probably better that way. Hearing it was less painful than watching it.

And at 4:07 p.m. the next day, they touched down in Charleston. The end of a long odyssey. The season that couldn't have been, had been. They became and remain the most unlikely and humble of heroes.

For through their efforts they gave us all something to cheer for, and gave themselves something to remember forever. It was one of those things that wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. And those are the best kind.

Who'd a thunk it?