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DJ LeMahieu waved his arms twice as he positioned for the final play of Wednesday’s game, supremely confident in his ability to complete a snag he has been making since his earliest days on a ballfield. He stared into Tropicana Field’s oatmeal-tinted roof and … suddenly didn’t seem quite so sure.
LeMahieu’s knees buckled and he sprawled to his right, stabbing his gloved left hand across his body and hoping for a miracle.