Every die-hard baseball fan has their ”moment.”

It’s the point in time when the bug bites. You go from being a casual observer to a true believer. The game becomes riveting. Mesmerizing even.

Patience is necessary. There is no instant gratification in baseball. The pace is admittedly and often unnecessarily slow. Games tend to run long. Action, at times, spreads few and far between.

The reward, though, is experiencing clarity when everything comes together. You suddenly understand what makes the sport special – and you’re hooked.

The Kansas City Royals unlocked the magic that had been bottled up for nearly three full decades with their dramatic 9-8 American League wild-card victory over Oakland on Tuesday night. The franchise’s well-documented playoff drought made a win alone all the more meaningful, but the way that it happened? Unforgettable.

Down 2-0 before the crowd at Kauffman Stadium could even settle in. Down 7-3 in the eighth. Down 7-6 in the ninth. Down 8-7 in the 12th. The Royals had one foot out the door for most of the night, but they rallied behind timely hitting, risky baserunning and 40,000 people who wouldn’t give up hope.

Somewhere, a 10-year-old boy decided to stay up late and give this game a chance, even if Oakland’s advancement looked like a foregone conclusion. He got to see all of the strategy and the energy and nuances that fuel a remarkable comeback. He watched every single twist and turn, ready to go to bed but not quite – just in case.

Then the unthinkable happened. Kansas City found a way. And this boy discovered a passion.

Every sport has its fair share of good, bad and ugly. I’ve seen buzzer-beaters and hail marys and photo finishes that are entrenched in my memory bank to this day.

With that being said, nothing quite matches the thrill of postseason baseball on nights like Tuesday. No time limit. Endless possibilities. Expecting the unexpected.

All leading to a moment that will last forever.

AMICABLE SPLIT: Ron Gardenhire isn’t a bad manager. The Minnesota Twins aren’t a bad team. But for whatever reason, the two mixed like oil and water over the last four years.

In 2010, Gardenhire was named the American League’s manager of the year and the Twins were wrapping up their second consecutive Central division championship. Without any drastic changes to their roster, Minnesota nose-dived the next season, losing 99 games. Then 96 in ’12. Then 96 in ’13. Then 92 in ’14.

Gardenhire’s termination earlier this week had become an inevitability. The Twins were patient, given his long and mostly-successful track record with the franchise, but enough was enough.

Where do both sides go from here? Gardenhire will be given a chance to manage again elsewhere, and don’t be surprised if he resurrects his reputation. Minnesota has a decent core of young talent awaiting its next manager, but the team simply can’t afford to have marquee contracts like Joe Mauer (8 years, $184 million) and Ricky Nolasco (4 years, $49 million) underperform like they did this past season.

In the day and age of social media and 24/7 news cycles, it’s difficult for any leader to stay in one place and remain effective for a long period of time. Strategies are dissected and overanalyzed, questions surface and then linger, confidence wanes, and suddenly, perception becomes reality. Anything short of perfection can – and often does – eventually lead to destruction.

Gardenhire didn’t make all the right moves. Minnesota’s front office also failed him. That doesn’t mean either is doomed to fail again in the future, but the divorce was necessary at this point.

File this one under ”irreconcilable differences” and move on.

Eric Pratt is Sports Editor at The Messenger. He may be reached afternoons and evenings at 1-800-622-6613, or by e-mail at sports@messengernews.net