Twenty years ago tonight (right now), Tom Browning was spinning a web that would end in 27 up, 27 down. I was five years old. I remember my dad picked me up from after school daycare that day in his old, white, rusty ass buick skylark. He’d smoke an entire pack of cigarettes on the 15 minute drive home. On that drive, Browning was just beginning his game of perfection that would withstand the test of time against the Los Angeles Dodgers.
Browning was a sweaty mess and his 86 mph fastball was just enough on that night to become part of Cincinnati Reds history during what was still their heyday.