Of course Todd Kipnis remembers the pitch. Vividly. How could he not?
World Series Game 7. Tie game. Bottom of the ninth. And there was his little brother, Jason, in the Progressive Field batter's box.
He can still feel it now _ the swing, the contact, the brief moment of fantastic anticipation. As Aroldis Chapman's 85-mph slider caught the meat of the plate, belt-high, Jason ripped at it.
It's the moment that _ due to broadcast optics _ sent pounding hearts into throats and the stomachs of Cubs fans into their shoes.
It's the moment that appeared to ruin a Cubs fairy tale in the cruelest way.
It's the moment that Todd Kipnis, from a couch in his Colorado apartment, believed his little brother had made perhaps the most legendary swing in Major League Baseball history.
"As soon as it hit the bat," Todd said, "I was in the air kicking and screaming. I've seen Jason swing maybe more than anyone else alive. I was convinced it was gone."
For 4.1 seconds.
That's how long it took from the time Jason swung until the ball landed _ harmlessly foul, two rows into the right-field stands and about 30 feet short of the foul pole.
Nope, the World Series had not just ended, with a scrappy second baseman from Northbrook, Ill., tormenting a city he loves with a soul-crushing home run for the Indians. Instead, more baseball would be needed to finish off an unusual 12-day stretch for the entire Kipnis family, a clan of devoted Cubs fans who in late October and early November had to abandon its allegiance at the height of its exhilaration.
