MLB-News: Following the Inconclusive Agreements, Chicago White Sox have officially announced the trade of franchise ace Center Fielder to the San Francisco Giants, according to ESPN. A $167.6 million, Six-year contract was signed after….

On the happy hand, Coors Field is where the Colorado Rockies play, and the Colorado Rockies are one of baseball’s truly elite teams when it comes to playing poorly. On the visibly despondent hand, Coors Field is where weirdness ensues in droves. The Giants playing at Coors Field is the baseball equivalent of the cliché Thanksgiving family dinner, wherein everyone leaves thinking, why can’t we just be normal?

Friday’s game did not disappoint, which means it very much did disappoint, if you catch my drift. It was weird and it was abnormal; it was a baseball game in which artistic liberties were taken and an editor was sorely needed.

Let’s begin our story in the fourth inning, where the Giants had a 3-0 lead, which is the equivalent of having a runner on second base in a scoreless game when you adjust for the ballpark. The Giants were trying to secure some insurance runs, of which one can never have enough, and they were in decent enough position to do exactly that. Matt Chapman had drawn a walk and Thairo Estrada had been hit by a pitch, giving the Giants runners at first and second with just one out. The batter was Brett Wisely, who saw an extremely-hittable first-pitch cutter from Cal Quantrill and jumped all over it, ripping a stinger right down the first base line.

Sports are funny, in that they reshape the space-time continuum in ways reminiscent of a child violently mushing Play-Doh, and in ways that no scientist has ever been able to explain to me (not that I’d trust a scientist anyway, obviously). When something happens in sports, you can think of everything in the time it takes to think of nothing.

Wisely hit the baseball 103.6 mph, which means the ball made it to first base in 0.39 seconds. Yet somehow, in those 0.39 seconds, I — a person who needs about five minutes and three sidetracked internal monologues wondering if someone from my philosophy class 14 years ago has children or not just to get through one page of a book — had figured out the possible outcomes for Wisely’s at-bat. Chapman would score easily from second, and Wisely would have a double. Estrada could probably score from first, but with only one out there’s a good chance that Matt Williams would put on the stop sign and let Jorge Soler pop a fly ball for an RBI.

It was either a 4-0 game with runners at second and third and one out, or a 5-0 game with a runner at second and one out, I had concluded, and I still had about 0.24 of those 0.39 seconds remaining to dabble in some other thoughts I’d put on the backburner. Mac and cheese for dinner it would be.

And then the ball did a curious thing indeed, channeling the inner devil work of Coors Field. The ball hit the bag at first base which, while certainly unlucky, is hardly unprecedented. But first base

umpire Chris Conroy, who had been sashaying into fair territory to not interfere with the rapidly-slicing hit, suddenly found himself in the way of a baseball that had ricocheted itself into a brand-new trajectory, and Wisely’s scorched baseball managed to plunk the moving prey like a perfectly-played round of Big Buck Hunter, which, let’s be honest, Wisely looks like he’d be damn good at.

But we’re not done!

Not only had Wisely’s liner hit the bag (unlikely), and then hit the umpire (extremely unlikely), but rather than flopping to the ground like a dropped egg (the standard protocol), the ball instead ricocheted directly to first baseman Michael Toglia (outrageously unlikely). And not only did it do all that, but it did so quickly and accurately enough that Toglia could still get to first base in time to retire Wisely, one of the team’s fastest runners.

You could watch every Giants game for the rest of your life and you might never see this play happen again. We have no choice but to marvel at it, even if we hate it.