Column: A Guardians season of whimsy, magic and joy

By the time you’re reading this column, the Cleveland Guardians may well have determined their fate as to whether or not they will qualify for this year’s playoffs.

Or perhaps not.

Should you grab this week’s edition of The Bargain Hunter on Saturday, it’s quite possible the Guardians could still be battling for either the Central Division title or one of the three available wildcard spots.

I bet that isn’t something you thought anyone would be stating about one month ago, or even two weeks ago.

Cleveland’s rise to playoff contention is about as unique as a Cleveland Browns' wild comeback victory in the waning seconds over one of the NFL’s best teams — wait a second, strike that!

How unlikely has this remarkable run been?

On July 8 Cleveland fell 15 1/2 games behind the Detroit Tigers in the Central Division and were left with a FanGraphs’ Hail Mary 0.1% chance of making the playoffs. After surging, the Guardians dropped nine of 10 straight games and toppled to 12 1/2 games back in late August. The FanGraph % of winning the division at that point didn’t even register.

At least when it was 0.1%, we could fall back on Lloyd Christmas’ famous “So you’re telling me there’s a chance” line from "Dumb & Dumber."

But 0.0%? Not even Lloyd could muster up the courage to spout out his catchphrase at. that point.

Then something strange and magical happened.

The Tribe started winning games — although I’m not sure how, because their All-Star closer and one of their mainstay starting pitchers were told they weren’t allowed to play because of some possibly shady betting actions.

I’ve seen raccoons lying belly up on the side of the road with a better chance of staying alive.

Yet here we are in late September, and head coach Stephen Vogt’s ragtag mix of inexperienced pitchers, rotational starters and underachievers have joined All-Stars Jose Ramirez and Steven Kwan to deliver a most unpredictable run.

It’s almost as though the wolves came knocking to collect their reward in carcasses, but instead of opening the door to let them in, those four Guardians standing tall on the Lorain-Carnegie Bridge extending across the Cuyahoga River next to the stadium in Cleveland wouldn’t let them in.

“You shall not pass!”

Perhaps the bridge’s real name, Hope Memorial Bridge, has some deeper meaning after all, because hope is all Cleveland fans could muster not too long ago.

After sweeping past the Tigers and lowly Minnesota Twins, who looked like they were more than ready to pack it in for the fall weeks ago, Cleveland was staring down the Tigers, not 15 1/2 games back as of Sept. 23, but just one game out.

Call it a Detroit collapse, call it one of the most uncanny runs in baseball lore, this Guardians team has once again picked up the city and its fans and carried it to the precipice of hope, providing along the way a series of thrilling wins that have come largely due to a young core of starting pitchers who are too young to realize they shouldn’t be pulling this off.

Over his past six starts, Joey Cantillo has given up a grand total of five earned runs. In his last three starts, covering 20.2 innings, Slade Cecconi has allowed a meager six hits. In his six starts since being called up, rookie Parker Messick is sporting a minuscule 2.11 ERA.

Those are just the youngsters. Gavin Williams looks like an ace. Tanner Bibbee is pitching like the guy they thought he was going to be.

In the pen Hunter Gaddis had not given up a run in eight straight appearances prior to coughing up a home run in the loss to the Twins. After struggling through a rough patch, Cade Smith has turned into a star as the new closer, blanking teams in nine of his last 10 outings. Guys like Erik Sabrowski, Jakob Junis and Kolby Allard, players who most Tribe fans couldn’t pick out of a lineup of three, are dealing.

Every time Vogt pulls a string recently it has led to success.

As for the everyday roster, it doesn’t scare most opponents, but lately, timely hitting has been incredible.

But the real magic? I still contend that it comes directly from one guy — backup catcher Austin Hedges.

Say what you want about a guy slashing .149 on the campaign; this dude’s never-ending supply of enthusiasm and love for the game is contagious, and his track record of playing for ultra-successful teams is almost impeccable over the past several seasons.

Watch this team play and watch where the camera eventually goes when something exciting happens. It gets directed to Hedges, standing on the top step of the dugout, leaning over the fence, screaming joyfully at the top of his lungs, a wide grin on his face.

He exudes all of that boyish joy of the game that I fear too many professionals have lost, and it oozes out all over his teammates.

Whatever magical potion this team dipped its feet into, enjoy it down to the last drop, whether it ends at the final pitch of the regular season or in the playoffs, because this has been another whimsical, unpredictable and exclusively romantic season of baseball yet again from a small-market team playing in the big-market end of the playground.