63 for Slammin’ Sammy

Believe in Mark McGwire, believe in Sammy Sosa, believe that the power of the home run has united all teams and colors and nationalities, as long as you also believe this:

From now until the end of the season, what Sosa is doing is infinitely tougher than what McGwire is doing.

Sosa is doing this under more pressure, with higher stakes, cloaked in drama that involves not just one man, but an entire team, city and legacy.

He is not hitting home runs while trying to hit home runs, but while trying to win games.

He is not performing extraordinary feats outside the realm of ordinary baseball, but within the confines of a playoff race.

The next time Sosa calls somebody “The Man,” he should do so while looking in the mirror.

The next time you think twice about this, you should think about Wednesday night.

His eventual game-winning, eighth-inning grand slam has just left the Qualcomm Stadium seats, soaring high into the twinkling flashbulbs and outstretched hands in the second deck.

The chill bumps are just beginning to subside. The breath is returning. The number “63,” for a man who before this season never had more than 40, is starting to sink in.

Let’s start from the beginning.

9:52 p.m.

It is the eighth inning. The game between Sosa’s Chicago Cubs and the San Diego Padres is tied, 2-2.

It is tied because two innings earlier, Sosa ripped a two-run double to left field, failing in his quest to tie McGwire but helping his team.

You see, unlike McGwire’s St. Louis Cardinals, Sosa still has a team that wants and needs his help.

It is the eighth inning, bases loaded, one out, Sosa steps to the plate and . . . wait.

Out runs Padre Manager Bruce Bochy. He walks up to home plate umpire Frank Pulli. He is going to make a double switch while replacing left-handed pitcher Mark Langston with right-handed pitcher Brian Boehringer.

A tougher matchup for Sosa. A delay that will cool him. A situation that could unnerve him.

He steps back to the on-deck circle, puts the bat on his shoulder, and waits.

9:53 p.m.

And waits.

And waits.

9:54 p.m.

Boehringer’s warmups are completed. Sosa steps back into the box.

At this exact moment, an interesting score is flashed on the right-field scoreboard.

NYM 4, HOU 3

This means the New York Mets have come back to defeat the Houston Astros.

This means that at this instant, the Mets have pulled back into a tie with the Cubs for the National League wild-card playoff spot.

This means, with bases loaded and one out, the last thing Sosa should be thinking is home run.

He needs a walk. A single. Get hit with a pitch. Anything to give his team a half-game wild-card lead with nine games to play.

A home run? Get serious.

The first pitch is outside. The standing crowd of 41,891 boos.

On Tuesday, a couple of Padres complained their crowd should not be booing them in their own park, even if Babe Ruth was batting.

”. . . the fans,” pitcher Kevin Brown said.

Which shows that some of the Padres are maybe not quite the mature championship contenders that everyone thinks.

This is bigger than them. This is bigger than anybody’s home-field paranoia.

On the next pitch from Boehringer, Sosa showed just how big.

He swung, the ball left the bat, and Sosa left his feet.

Hopped, he did. A two-footed hop. Five times down the first base line.

He hopped and hopped and . . . when the ball settled into the seats, he smacked his fists together and that was that.

There were no other fireworks. No emotional trot around the bases. Just the usual jog into the usual group of teammates who usually meet a player whose homer has just given them a lead they cannot lose.

He had done more than tie McGwire for the home run lead. Far more.

He had just given his team an eventual 6-3 victory and another half-step lead toward the playoffs.

At that moment, it was impossible to watch Sosa without realizing, he has a far different agenda than McGwire, which could ultimately make his accomplishment even more illustrious.

There has been a recent spate of complaints that major league baseball--and the public--have not celebrated Sosa’s achievements with the same fanfare as McGwire’s.

There were no dignitaries to greet him when he hit his 62nd homer. There was no car for him to drive around Wrigley Field. Heck, at the time, major league baseball wasn’t even coding the balls, so they have no way of recovering the authentic ball.

Watching Sosa on Wednesday night, you realize the reason for this.

Baseball, the fans, all of us, we are taking our cues from Sammy Sosa.

He acts as though his job is not done yet, so we act the same way.

He has work left, far more important than Mark McGwire, so we will stand back and watch.

At this rate, when the time comes for his party, it could last a lot longer than the hour-or-so fete given McGwire. It could last for ages.