Time to Savor Incredible Run

That was it?

This is how it ends?

A dunk, then a slap, then a grounder?

One of the most dominating pitching streaks in baseball history -- older than some toddlers and just as noisy -- ends on a stinking grounder?

Where was the home run? Where were the fireworks? Where was Barry Bonds?

That’s just it, of course.

Eight-four saves after it started, the greatness of Dodger Eric Gagne’s streak could be finally, fully appreciated Monday night in the simplicity with which he finally blew one.

Hung an 0-and-2 curveball that Arizona’s Shea Hillenbrand knocked into center field.

Beaten on an outside pitch that Luis Gonzalez yanked into right.

Gave up a grounder to Chad Tracy that deflected off the glove of a diving Olmedo Saenz at first base.

Could have happened to anybody.

It has happened 964 times in baseball since August of two years ago.

Can anyone now doubt the miracle that since that time, it never happened to Gagne?

Eighty-four consecutive saves. Thirty saves more than second place on the all-time list. More than third and fourth place combined.

And more than twice as many as the 40-consecutive-save career best of a guy going into Cooperstown this summer, Dennis Eckersley.

“It was so much fun to be part of it,” Gagne told reporters Monday night, the only time in two consecutive years he has been guilty of understatement.

I wasn’t at the game. But I saw it. Like many Angelenos, I was summoned to the television by my inner-Gagne.

I was hauling trash in the Monday twilight, discovered the Dodgers held a two-run lead over the Diamondbacks in the ninth inning at Dodger Stadium, and rushed inside to watch on television.

For the last two months, I have rushed inside to watch, and haven’t we all?

The streak had become so amazing, elevating Gagne from a simple pitching mound to a glittering tightrope, that every night the baseball world was waiting for him to fall.

But he didn’t.

He never even tilted. It was never even close. Nearly half of those saves -- 38 -- occurred with a one-run lead, yet every night it seemed like he was ahead by three.

His last save I saw in person, last week against San Francisco, he finished in about five minutes, everyone sort of shrugged, and it wasn’t until later that I realized he had struck out the side.

He was like that during the streak. He was not of his game. He was beyond all accepted baseball truths.

Not that he was Joe DiMaggio or Orel Hershiser or Cal Ripken Jr., of course. But neither were they he.

Because a save is still awarded to pitchers who have the benefit of as much as a three-run lead -- which Gagne enjoyed 24 times in his streak -- the streak is not as daunting as those involving hitting streaks, or scoreless innings, or games played.

But it is still the sort of perfection that no one has achieved before. A perfection that he has maintained for at least a year longer than anyone else.

Back in 1920, when the home run was a new statistic, Babe Ruth led the major leagues with 54. The second-place finisher had 19. This was like that.

It was wondrous, unique theater that should stand alone, a monument unto itself, roped off from impossible comparisons, appreciated more with age.

It is one baseball record that will almost certainly never be repeated, if only because baseball may change the save rule before anyone else gets close.

Not to mention, it was the most fun anyone has had at Dodger Stadium since 1988.

All this talk about Shaq’s town or Kobe’s town, well, um, fellas, you have both long since lost it to Gagne.

Did you hear the standing ovation he received Monday after the Diamondbacks tied the score? Did you realize that later, he was the first pitcher in baseball history to receive a curtain call after a blown save?

After which he sat on the bench, seemingly upset and exhausted, and removed his goggles.

Do you know, it is the first time in two years that I’ve seen him on the field without his goggles?

He has rarely looked so human, on a night he’s never seemed so immortal.

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.