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If you caught a glimpse of Stephen Piscotty’s home run on Tuesday night, well, you’re probably wondering when your chill bumps will calm down. Batting for the first time since his mother Gretchen died after a battle with Lou Gehrig’s disease, and barely 24 hours after her services, Piscotty launched a majestic home run that left Boston’s Fenway Park as if it had wings.

Grab a tissue and have another look:

These kinds of moments are the ties that bind real life and sports, and while we’ve all been guilty of assigning more metaphysical weight to a moment than it deserves, there was no denying that something special had happened Tuesday night.

“It was pure joy,” Piscotty, who patted his chest as he jogged from third base to home plate, said after the game. “It’s been an emotional week. (I) just felt good knowing that my family was watching and my mom was watching.”

“I don’t know what to say about that,” A’s manager Bob Melvin said. “We thought the first hit he got at home was dramatic based on what he was going through, but to hit a home run his first at-bat like that, there’s something in the air. Probably Gretchen.”

Sadly, the grieving athlete is a recurring theme. They don’t always perform an awesome act when they return to the playing field. But when they do, the moment stays with you.

Example: Bobby Bonds, father of the Giants’ Barry Bonds, succumbed to cancer on Aug. 23, 2003. Barry Bonds took a week away from the team, returning on Aug. 30. In his second at-bat, he cracked a home run off future Hall of Famer Randy Johnson, giving the Giants a 2-0 lead in a game they would win 2-1.

The moment was so emotional for him that his heart began racing — 150 beats a minute for a few minutes.

“That’s the closest I’ve seen a major league guy come to actual crying,” said manager Felipe Alou. “I think we all know why. That was the first homer after his dad passed away.”

“I lost my dad,” Bonds said quietly afterward. “It’s really tough right now. Emotions just went through me. I got a little light-headed. I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding. It’s better now. I’ll get through it. It’ll just take a couple days.”

Strangely enough, Bonds’ home run was the capstone to an uncanny run of Giants players who returned from bereavement with an artful, cathartic effort on the field.

It started with J.T. Snow, whose mother Merry Carole lost her two-year battle with cancer on June 17, 1998. Snow was away from the team for six days. On June 23, in his first at-bat since his mother’s passing, he tagged a home run against the A’s.

“The whole time I was rounding the bases I thought about her,” Snow said. “I don’t ever try to hit homers, but I was thinking while I was driving here that I was going to hit one tonight. It was pretty special.”

In September 2000, outfielder Armando Rios got word that his grandmother had been killed in a bus accident in Puerto Rico. He returned from her funeral for a game against the Astros and hit a tie-breaking two-run home run in the ninth inning — the difference-maker in an important stretch drive game.

“I wanted to stay home with my family,” Rios said. “I couldn’t do it. All they told me is how big of a fan she was and all you can do is try to hit a home run to win a game. It never crossed my mind if it would be today or if it would ever happen.”

“Emotionally, you go through a lot with family members,” Snow said. “It’s almost a relief to get back on the baseball field. A lot of times, somebody is looking out for you upstairs. It was his night.”

In spring training 2001, Giants first baseman Russ Davis lost his father to a brain tumor. After taking two days off, he returned for an exhibition game and hit a home run on his first swing.

“There’s some kind of meaning behind it,” Davis said. “You see that a lot.”

In April 2003,  the mother of pitcher Jason Schmidt died of a brain tumor. Upon his return from her funeral in Washington, Alou handed his ace the ball.

Schmidt responded with a dominant three-hit shutout against the Cubs, racking up 12 strikeouts.

“It’s the highlight of my career, all things considered,” said Schmidt, who had tears in his eyes after the game. “I said a little prayer before the game. I said, ‘It’s your will. Just give me this game tonight.’”

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