As innings tick away an obscure pitcher in a thus far obscure ball game is moving inexorably closer to throwing a no-hitter. In the last second of the last out of the last inning with the Detroit Tigers' Armando Galarraga on the brink of history, something is terribly wrong. A routine ground ball to the right side of the infield is artfully played as it will be thousands of times this season: ball fielded, toss to first, the runner a step late, play over, game over, and history made. But first base umpire Jim Joyce does not raise his right fist with thumb extended. Instead he is crouching, crossing his arms, signaling Cleveland Indians' Jason Donald safe at first.
 
High priests in the cathedrals of summer are not supposed to alter destiny. Nonetheless a wide-eyed pitcher who speaks broken English, riding the innocent climb into big league baseball is denied the opportunity to become the 21st major league pitcher to throw a perfect game. A week hence, everyone from the school bus driver to the book club have seen the replay and dialoged the travesty until there's simply nothing else to say about the no hitter that never was. Nothing else to say that is if we ignore the far greater life-lesson born of last Wednesday's blown call by a highly respected umpire with two World Series and multiple All Star games on his resume.
 
Over the centuries great men have erred...Napoleon of Waterloo, Yamamoto of Midway, Joyce of Comerica Park. To err is human, even in the temple of Major League Baseball.
 
The real story only began with Jim Joyce's "safe" call. Events that followed ensured that greater good is spread around transcending baseball. Immediately after the game Joyce asked to see Galarraga. In tears, Joyce approached the young pitcher and offered a straight-from-the-shoulder, right-from-the-heart apology.  He freely admitted bricking the call and asked Galarraga's forgiveness. Joyce then tearfully turned to the media. "It was the biggest call of my career and I kicked the #&%# out of it. I just cost that kid a perfect game." Moments later, Armando Galarraga countered in-kind: "You don't see umpires come out after the game and say, 'Hey let me tell you I'm sorry' and he felt really sad. He didn't even shower," said the wide eyed pitcher.
 
In the world of professional sports populated with divas, prima donnas, shark-nosed agents and a few miscreants, a savvy umpire and the most na�ve of young players served up a life lesson. The following day the Tigers and Indians played a day game with much anticipation. The expansive Comerica Park message board read, "No hard feelings." Of all major league venues, no place can rival Detroit for hardship, bad breaks, and dire news, yet Tiger fans stood and applauded. They cheered Galarraga of course, but they also showed respect for Jim Joyce, who will shoulder regret for the rest of his career. Tiger manager Jim Leyland summed it up: "Players are human, umpires are human, and managers are human. It was a very nice day."
 
Inevitably politicians from Lansing to the White House could not resist the temptation to ride this piece of sports history, appealing to Bud Selig to reverse the call and rearrange destiny. It won't happen, nor should it. Detroit of all places understands it's not what happens to you or the mistake you make, but instead how you react to adversity and what you do about it.  It's not whether you'll get knocked down that matters but how many times you'll get back up. Very few baseball fans can recite all 20 pitchers who've tossed no-hitters over the seasons. But almost everyone will remember Armando Galarraga for pitching the perfect game that wasn't, and being man enough to say, "It's all right, I forgive you."