Baseball, like many other games, is a zero-sum affair. This is true both in the mathematical sense — each run a pitcher allows, a hitter records — and the philosophical sense. Any amount of fun that one team is having, the other team isn’t. A jaw-dropping diving catch provokes elation among one fanbase and stomach-clenching disappointment among the other. A home run can be ecstasy or agony.
A perfect game, then, represents the ultimate splitting of fan experience. There are few feats in sports that are rarer or more difficult. Nearly any Mariners fan who was sentient at the time of Félix Hernández’s perfecto can let you know where they were when it happened.