It took until August 13—exactly 120 games into the season—for the Orioles to get their first walk-off win. Now they can’t stop getting walks offs.
They’ve hit four in the last five games.
There was a 2-1 win off the Dodgers on Friday, capped by rookie Samuel Basallo’s massive homer over the right-center-field wall. There was the rare “delayed walk-off” on Tuesday against the Pirates (the officiating crew had to huddle to determine that Basallo’s blooper had, in fact, hit chalk and was a game-winner). And there was rookie Dylan Beavers’ slashing single to right, clinching Wednesday night’s game against the Pirates.
And there was the one for the history books.
On Saturday September 6, the Orioles were being no-hit by Dodgers pitcher Yoshinobu Yamamoto. This was particularly upsetting because it had been a magical night at the Yard, a star-studded celebration of Cal Ripken Jr.’s 2,131 game. The crowd was pumped, the vibes were immaculate…except the Orioles couldn’t get a dang hit.
With each passing inning, the situation became more dire. Even if you weren’t an Orioles fan, you were probably getting notifications on your phone alerting you to the potential no-hitter in progress. The seventh inning passed. Then the eighth inning. Still no hits. In the ninth inning, the Os were losing 3-0 and down to their last out when Jackson Holliday came through with a massively clutch home run. A brutal turn of events for Yamamoto, as both his no-hitter and shutout were ruined in a single at bat. And a collective sigh of relief from Orioles fans, who had no expectation of winning the game, but were simply happy to have avoided the no-no.
But somehow, they managed to load the bases. Then Colton Cowser walked, making the score 3-2. And then an unlikely hero, Emmanuel Rivera, a third baseman the Os had claimed off waivers in 2024, smacked a base hit up the middle and two runs scored and Rivera was mobbed at second base. For the Orioles: jubilation. For the Dodgers: abject misery.
It seemed like nothing could kill our buzz, until a day later, when Baltimore sports fans were reminded that what the sports gods giveth, the sports gods can taketh away.
The Ravens were at the Bills for the season opener. This was a revenge game, as the Ravens had been felled by the Bills last year in the division playoffs, 27-25. That game had particularly stung, not just because of the maddeningly close score, but because it had likely been the deciding factor in Bills QB Josh Allen winning the season MVP award over Lamar Jackson. (Editor’s note: Our guy was robbed.)
It started well—so well in fact that despite the team’s long-established pattern of blowing leads, most Ravens fans were feeling pretty darn good about themselves. By all metrics, we seemed to be the better team, with the trio of Lamar Jackson, Derrick Henry, and Zay Flowers running roughshod through the Bills defense. Going into the fourth quarter, we were up 34 to 19. Then 40 to 25 with four minutes to go. The win was all but sealed.
Then all hell broke loose. Derrick Henry fumbled, leading to an easy Bills touchdown. Then the Ravens, who had been effortlessly moving down the field, couldn’t secure a first down. Then, they mysteriously went into the prevent defense (basically a defense designed to avoid the big play), which allowed Josh Allen to systematically make his way down the field. Spoiler alert: They did not avoid the big play.
Watching it was, indeed, like watching a slow motion train wreck. You saw it coming and there was nothing you could do about it.
I once had a Twitter debate with a nationally famous sports podcaster about momentum in sports. He insisted momentum is bunk. I would urge him to watch this game. I knew the Bills had momentum. The Bills knew the Bills had momentum. And the crowd knew the Bills had momentum. (That is, the crowd that remained—many hit the exits at the end of the third corner, which I confess fills me with some measure of schadenfreude). The rest was academic: With two seconds left in the game, the Bills kicked the go ahead field goal and that was all she wrote. Final score: Bills 41, Ravens 40.
For the Bills: jubilation. For the Ravens: abject misery.
There is nothing like losing a game like that. To have defeat yanked from the jaws of victory. To be sucker punched, blindsided, waylaid. You’re in shock. You’re in denial. You want to scream into a pillow. (In fact, you do scream into a pillow.)
In the span of one week, it has been the best of times and the worst of times for Baltimore sports fans.
One can only wonder—with a mixture of excitement and dread—what the sports gods will bring us next.