Plenty of Warmth in This Desert Oasis

Like many in their town, they are all from somewhere else.

“A bunch of blue-collar grinders who have played so many places, every fan in the country knows at least one of us,” said a breathless, beer-soaked Luis Gonzalez.

Like many in their town, they moved there for warmth, renewal, and an early-bird special.

“We all came here to win a championship, and quick,” said gimpy, giddy Mark Grace.

It is a town that leaps out of bed this morning to a reminder that even the most desolate landscape is rich with possibility.

Because on a red-eyed Sunday night on the other side of the country, some of Phoenix’s silliest old residents found exactly what they were looking for.

Warmth, in the mob of purple that danced across the Turner Field grass after the Diamondbacks defeated the Atlanta Braves, 3-2, to win the National League championship series. “Lots of different stories, lots of great stories ... all glued together,” Gonzalez said.

Renewal, in a chance to earn a World Series ring that has eluded all but one of them.

“First thing that happened is, I grabbed Jay Bell and hugged him and said, ‘Can you believe it? We’re finally going to a World Series!”’ said Grace, who combines with Bell for 27 years of experience.

Early-bird special, in the form of a Brave team that helped the Diamondbacks get there with cheap fielding and discount hitting.

The Diamondbacks’ two winning runs Sunday came after a grounder was botched by second baseman Marcus Giles--giving Arizona an amazing nine unearned runs in sweeping the three games here.

The Brave offense then contributed when Brian Jordan, with two out and the bases loaded in the seventh inning, swung at two bad pitches and essentially struck himself out against tiring Randy Johnson.

It was a perfect ending to an awful performance by a team that has clearly overstayed its postseason welcome.

Don’t come back now, you hear?

“I really want to tip my cap to the Braves,” Johnson said.

Bet you do.

Pull out the Bermuda shorts and black socks. Rev up the golf cart. Slap on the sunscreen. Sweep the kitchen for scorpions.

Look out, World Series, the four-year-old Diamondbacks are hot.

But it’s a dry heat.

They don’t have a bullpen.

They don’t have a clutch power hitter.

Their manager, Bob Brenly, works off the top of his head. Nearly one week after trying to win the division series with a silly suicide squeeze bunt, he nearly pulled off a suicide sit Sunday by watching Johnson wilt on the mound in the seventh inning before Jordan’s ineptitude saved him.

“That was the gutsiest performance in the biggest game that I have ever seen,” Curt Schilling said of Johnson, who was so exhausted he was gasping for breath.

And the two-run home run in the fifth inning that eventually won the game? It was hit by a guy, Erubiel Durazo, who was only playing because Grace had left earlier with a strained hamstring.

“I was getting worked on in the trainer’s room when I heard him hit the homer,” Grace said. “I hobbled out to the dugout high-fiving everybody and shouting, ‘I’m the MVP of this game! I’m the MVP of this game!”’

Fittingly for the Diamondbacks, the MVP of the series wasn’t Johnson or Schilling, the two pitchers who might actually give them a slim chance of beating the New York Yankees or Seattle Mariners next week.

The MVP was the guy for whom the celebrating players were chanting, “Ru-dy, Ru-dy.”

Yeah, funny little Craig Counsell with his funny little batting stance and huge .381 average.

“You feel lucky,” Counsell said. “I mean, I felt like I was battling for a job in spring training just to make the team and be the utility guy.”

You want to scoff at this team.

You want to embrace this team.

“I know a lot of people thought we couldn’t do it,” said Schilling. “But we have unbeatable character.”

And unbeatable characters.

The first baseman, like many of his neighbors, was tossed out of Chicago.

The second baseman was tossed out of three times that many places.

The shortstop, as early as this year, was considered a broken-down little man.

The third baseman was a broken-down Giant.

The left fielder was such a hot prospect, he was traded here from the Detroit Tigers for that former Dodger great Karim Garcia.

The center fielder wasn’t good enough for the Padres.

The right fielder wasn’t considered good enough for the, ugh, Braves.

The bullpen is led by a closer who can’t close, and senior setup guys by the name of Greg Swindell and Mike Morgan.

“I want to congratulate Morgan on finally making the World Series after a 52-year career,” Grace shouted across the drenched clubhouse.

Morgan, a former Dodger now with his 12th team, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It looked like he was doing both. “Look at me, I’m shaking,” he said.

With everyone around him talking baseball, Morgan talked family.

He talked about his father, Henry Morgan, who died of a heart attack last winter while Morgan was talking to him on the telephone.

He talked about burying his father in a Diamondback jersey and cap. He talked about visiting him this week.

“I’m going to go back to the desert to where he is resting and say, ‘Pops, I made it to the World Series,”’ Morgan said.

Common sense loudly declares that no matter who they play, the Diamondbacks have absolutely no chance to win.

There is absolutely no chance they are listening.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com.