Aaron Judge’s swing appeared far too nonchalant to launch an orb of cowhide deep into the Bronx nighttime sky, but the implausible was perfectly timed: The Yankee slugger’s swat resulted in a “walk-off win” — when the home team breaks a tie score in the ninth inning or later, sealing victory with no opportunity for the opponent to respond. Just like that, the game is over. In its sudden rush and incontrovertible finality, the walk-off win is a special kind of triumph. It is a bright burst of color in a world of pervasive gray, a version of “happily ever after” that would make William Shakespeare and Jane Austen proud. The Yankees trailed the division rival Blue Jays by two runs heading into the bottom of the ninth inning Tuesday, an unusual occurrence during a season that has seen the Bronx Bombers snap off a torrid start, the best record in the Major Leagues. The no. 9 hitter, defensive specialist Jose Trevino, worked a walk, a feat replicated by leadoff batter D. J. LeMahieu.That brought up Mr. Judge, the Yankees’ best player — who declined to sign a long-term contract before the season began, setting up a potentially contentious and certainly lucrative free agent period at season’s end. He is sui generis. ESPN Stats & Info informs that no position player in baseball history has ever been both taller and heavier than Mr. Judge, who stands 6-foot-7 and weighs 282 pounds. The Yankee right fielder stepped to the plate against Jordan Romano, the Blue Jay reliever who came into the contest leading the league in saves. The pitch that left Mr. Romano’s hand 60 feet and six inches from home plate concluded its journey 414 feet from Mr. Judge’s bat, in left field’s second deck at Yankee Stadium.The crowd went wild. It was the superstar’s first walk-off dinger. The record belongs to slugger Jim Thome, who mashed 13 over his 22-year career. Prior to Mr. Judge’s blow, the game had been messy, marred by ejections and poor play on the part of the pinstripers. In a season of 162 games, these things happen. The home run was a touch of magic on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, the unlikely crashing a party of the prosaic. Like the pleasures of sublime music or a visit to “Las Meninas” at the Museo Nacional del Prado, the satisfactions of a walk-off win are real enough, even if they are fleeing. Or perhaps they are real because they are ephemeral. The Yankees won the next game, but in unremarkable fashion. Months from now, the walk-off win will be just another statistic. Those who saw it will know it was more than that. A binary world of zeroes and ones cannot account for the experience of exultant wins or agonizing defeats. The plot of a baseball season, like that of a life, can be summarized with dispatch. The delight, however, is in the details. Mr. Judge did a little dance around the base paths as he headed for home, and in that moment all who watched did a little jig, as well. Everyone, that is, except all those from Toronto to Tulsa whose antipathy to the Yankees found new and agonizing life in Mr. Judge’s latest victorious verdict.
