Upon the biggest hit of his life, one of only two three-run doubles to bust open a tied World Series Game 7, as teammates rejoiced and fans whooped, hollered and banged their thunderstick noisemakers, Garret Anderson never so much as opened his mouth. He stood there on second base, the joyous mayhem of Angel Stadium raging as if set afire, with his face fixed in its usual state of preternatural calm.
He allowed himself the smallest of celebrations, which for him was as much of a departure from his stoicism as cameras ever caught. He applauded politely.
