The way they tell it, the air is cleaner up there. The sun is warmer.
According to the stories, you feel as if you are soaring. From up there, way up there, you can see clear over to the next yard.
Up there, in the direction of the clouds, ears pop and noses bleed and heads get dizzy and oxygen is harder to find. Up there, the heights are glorified, and it is a long way to fall.
Ah, fourth place.
Can you imagine the view?
The Devil Rays are poised at the rung. Any day now, they may put their foot upon it and hoist themselves skyward. Any game now, they may summon all of their strength and bravely depart their basement. Soon, they may no longer be last. Soon, they may be only next-to-last.
All together now: Wheeee!
For the Rays, this is fairly uncharted landscape. Oh, the Rays float around the standings for a week, sometimes hovering as late as May. But in June, they settle into the basement with your parents' high school yearbooks, and the cobwebs begin to form. Not since their second year, when they were too young to know the difference, have the Rays been out of last place after May. Imagine the magical, elusive world of fourth place long enough, and it is enough to leave you giddy. That, and the altitude.
Yet, here the Rays are, a half-game behind Toronto and 11/2 behind Baltimore. Can you imagine the pressure the Blue Jays must feel? Can you picture the panic that is about to beset the Orioles? For the first time in memory - and let's face it, everything you can forget about the Rays to this point is a blessing - the Rays are in the passing lane.
Okay, okay. Scoff if you wish. Chuckle if it makes you happy. The Rays are flirting with fourth place. Unless Dave Andreychuk stops by, no one is about to hoist a trophy.
On the other hand, how many steps away from the dungeon does a prisoner have to get before he is allowed to feel good about the change of scenery?
Say this, then, about fourth place:
It isn't fifth.
While you were not watching, while you were wrapped up in the afterglow of the Lightning postseason or the aftermath of the Bucs' offseason, the afterthoughts known as the Devil Rays changed their season.
Suddenly, they are a fun little team playing a scrappy brand of baseball.
They have won five straight games, coming from behind in all to do so. They have won 16 of their past 22, the best 20-plus-game streak of their existence. Only the Yankees have been hotter, by one game, since May 20.
Also, there is this:
A plan to escape the cellar seems to have been hatched.
Oh, this talk seems properly silly to Lou Piniella, the Rays manager. During his career, he has managed a team to a world championship. It should be pointed out that fourth place isn't his idea of a summer home.
Still, it was Piniella who boldly predicted his team would finish out of last place this season. Given the history of the team, that puts him halfway between Nostradamus and Merlin.
"Hey, you've got to start somewhere," Piniella said, laughing softly. "When you've spent your entire existence in the cellar, getting out of it is a step in the right direction. We haven't done that yet. But we're playing better. We just have to keep it up."
The past few weeks have been what Piniella imagined this team would be during spring training, when he believed he had a deeper, more versatile team. But the quick trip to Japan took its toll - ask the Bucs - and when the Rays opened their regular season, their legs were dead, their bats were quiet and, to the surprise of no one, they promptly fell on their noses.
Go back to the morning of May 20. The Rays had won only 10 of 38, and they were on a 3-19 streak. For only the third time in baseball history, the Rays went 40 games without winning two in a row. Even here, things have rarely looked uglier.
Since then, the Rays have spent most every day climbing out of the muck. And now? Throw Tampa Bay in with Arizona, Seattle, Pittsburgh, Kansas City, Colorado and Montreal, and the Rays would be the powerhouse. Think of it. In a room full of Jugdish, Mohammed and Sidney, the Rays would be Flounder.
"Everyone gets frustrated," Piniella said. "The players were frustrated, I was frustrated. But nobody quit. Now, we have had one bad stretch, and we have had one good stretch. We just need to be consistent, especially our starting pitching."
In Tampa Bay, we have seen teams turn around. We saw the Bucs when they were the worst team in sports, and we saw them win a Super Bowl. We saw the Lightning when it was the worst franchise in sports, and we saw it win a Stanley Cup.
The Rays' job is tougher. They are in a tougher division, and the stands are emptier, and fewer teams make the playoffs. When the Bucs won the Super Bowl, it was like watching pigs fly. When the Lightning won the Stanley Cup, it was like watching pigs in space. For the Rays to win the World Series, it would be like watching pigs perfect time travel.
This, then, is why fourth place is important. Because it is at least on the road to where Piniella's team is and where he wants it to be. Because on the northern border of fourth place is third place. Because, considering what we have seen from the Rays for the past half-dozen years, a bronze medal sounds pretty good.
For now, this will do for a pennant race. Toronto is a half-step ahead. Baltimore can be seen in the distance.
