The scoreboard declared us victors. The crowd, drunk on momentum and cheap beer, roared like prisoners mistaking the clang of their cell doors for celebration. But those of us who saw beyond - those of us cursed with introspection - we knew. This was no triumph. This was survival dressed in a party hat. The weary Diamondbacks, battered to defeat in four consecutive games, three times in extra innings, roused themselves to take the field once more, They sought to avoid a sweep which would take them back to that most maligned of summits. Mt. .500. It would leave them staring into the abyss of a road-trip to the seventh level of hell, also known as New York and Philadelphia.
Diamondbacks 6, Braves 4: Win and Peace
