Now he would get Utley again, and Howard, get their combined 81 homers and 250 RBIs, both of them representing the tying run, both having faced him once already, the mystery gone.

"Just make good pitches," Price told himself. "You know, they're human, like everyone else out there. They don't have super powers. Just make the pitch, keep the ball down, because they can definitely hit it over the fence. Make the pitcher's pitch and get them out."

He made three of them to Utley: strike looking, foul ball, strike swinging.

One out to go. There were pockets of Phillies fans sprinkled throughout the Trop, but most of the 40,843 were on their feet now, fused in a common roar. There was no mistaking the gravity of the game, the magnitude of the moment. One more out, and the teams would travel to rainy Philadelphia tied. The alternative, for this fresh batch of Rays fans, was too awful to ponder.

Price already had thrown 41 pitches. Maddon had said earlier in the week that he would be reluctant to throw his organization's most prized arm for more than 15 or 20 in any given game, but he had said that before facing this must-have situation.

"Plus, he's a starting pitcher, he's been stretched," Maddon said. "That's what makes him different than our other relief pitchers out there, it wouldn't be unusual to throw 40 pitches."

The other thing that makes him different, of course, is the talent that courses through that left arm. Now, one last time, he unleashed a nasty slider to Howard, and Howard jumped after it, turned it over, rolled the baseball toward second base, and that was that. Funny thing: Price wouldn't get the win (Big Game James Shields would), and he wouldn't even get a save (because he had entered with a four-run lead). So there was no stat for Price to take home with him.

Just the undying gratitude of Tampa Bay fans. And a realization that even when he looks human, even when the phenom looks susceptible, he's got just as much in his heart as he does in his arm to get him through. It's a hell of a parlay.