Sometimes the greatne s and beauty of baseball is reflected in the human moments. Not nece sarily what happens between the white lines a pitch, a hit or a big play but what happens when the action stops, when everything seems to stand still.

I got to thinking about that today, the anniversary of Game 7 of the 1991 World Series an epic series between the Braves and Twins that was awash in human moments. Game 7, especially, produced a few such moments that fans don't normally see in modern baseball. In fact, we may never see them again.

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The in- Howie Kendrick Jersey game stuff from that '91 finale is well-documented: Jack Morris and John Smoltz with dueling shutouts, with Morris taking his through 10 innings, and the Twins eking out a 1-0 win. That's what everyone remembers. I want to talk about the other stuff, the stuff you might have mi sed or might have forgotten. The stuff the cameras showed for only fleeting seconds. The stuff that offered emotional bookends to perhaps the greatest World Series game ever played.

The handshake, Part I

Heading into Game 7, the 1991 World Series had already been a cla sic. The home team had won every game, three of those wins by walk-offs, including Kirby Puckett's famous walk-off homer the night before. It was a series, played by two evenly match teams, defined by tension.

As Lonnie Smith strode to the plate to lead off Game 7, he looked at Twins catcher Brian Harper Smith's former teammate in St. Louis and extended his hand. Harper took Smith up on his offer of basic sportsmanship and the two shared a brief handshake. Smith's gesture, and Harper's return offering, carried a clear me sage: This series has been amazing. We've been a part of something special here. Good luck to you tonight. It was a physical act that carried more weight than any combination of words could've. Which was good, because at that point, with one game left to decide everything after a heavyweight fight of a Fall Cla sic, there wasn't much left to say.

"I don't think I' Brandon Kintzler Jersey ve ever seen a hitter shake hands with a catcher before the first pitch in any game," TV analyst Tim McCarver said moments later.

"Like a heavyweight fight," announcer Jack Buck responded. "It was an unusual occurrence."

Unusual, indeed. That's why Morris, eager to get the game going, didn't appreciate it.

"I was about ready to go punch my catcher," he told MLB Network recently. "That's the enemy. We're not buddies."

No, they weren't buddies. Just two players who acknowledged they were a part of something bigger than themselves.

The handshake, Part II

By the time the Twins walked off as World Series champions on Gene Larkin's pinch-hit single, more than 3 hours and 23 minutes had elapsed since Smith and Harper shook hands and their teams embarked on a knock-out, drag-out battle for a title.

The Twins had reason to stay on the field a while longer as they celebrated their second championship in four seasons. The Braves, however, had every reason to leave as quickly as po Koda Glover Jersey sible, to immediately begin the proce s of ridding their minds of Game 7 heartbreak. Still, some members of the team just couldn't bring themselves to walk away. Nearly 90 seconds after Larkin's hit, a few members of the Atlanta nine remained on the diamond, apparently not quite ready to accept that their miracle season was over.

As the Twins hugged and shouted and otherwise partook in the euphoria, Braves outfielders Keith Mitchell, Ron Gant and Brian Hunter slowly made their way in. Before they got to the dugout, they were intercepted by Twins. Morris, perhaps realizing that the weight of the series did indeed demand the kind of break from protocol he despised earlier, shook Gant's hand and exchanged a few words of sportsmanship. It's hard to tell which player initiated the handshake, but that really doesn't matter.

Either way, when have we ever seen that? A World Series MVP taking a break from his celebration to wish his sullen opponent well, or a just-defeated foe offering a moment Kyle McGowin Jersey of congratulations amid his own heartbreak. That theme continued a beat later.

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'You're a great player. Keep going.'

Just after Gant bid Morris farewell, he was approached by Twins manager Tom Kelly, who, like a father, put his arm around Gant's neck and pulled him close. I'd always been curious what Kelly said, so I asked Gant last year.

"You're a great player. Keep going," Gant said Kelly told him.

Erick Fedde Jersey Again, when else have you seen that? A manager taking time away from his own party to encourage a vanquished foe who likely needed some encouragement at the time, the the sting of a lo s so devastatingly fresh. It was another minor protocol breach made nece sary by what both men had endured for the past week, a historic series that required its own decorum.

Watch everything unfold in real time here. The good stuff starts at 2:43:20.

A few beers

Not all the moments of humanity were captured by cameras, however. In 2011, as part of MLB Network's countdown of the 20 greatest games in MLB history, Morris shared a story that pretty well sums up the greatne s of the 1991 World Series, and of Game 7, which was voted the second-greatest game of all time.

After the trophy presentation and after all the interviews and after all the commotion had subsided, a group of players from both sides found themselves together in the bowels of the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. Still exhausted and impre sed by their seven-game superfight, several members of the Braves and Twins shared a few beers and just talked about the James Bourque Jersey amazing series that nobody wanted to end.

Morris didn't say much about what was discu sed, other than that it was a nice time of camaraderie over a shared bit of history. Oh, to have been a fly on the wall.

Once again, I ask: Have you ever seen or heard of something like that before? Two teams on opposite ends of the emotional spectrum, coming together to bond, reflect and sit in awe of what they'd just done. The whole thing was likely therapeutic, a time to finally calm the nerves.

"I'm surprised if I don't have ulcers," Twins infielder Al Newman an hour after the game ended. "I think I'll get checked out."

The debate over the greatest World Series of all time ebbs and flows each October, and those involved usually just retreat back to their previously held positions. Of course, it's hard to objectively define the best ever. By it's nature, it's an impo sible question. But the moments of humanity around Game 7 in 1991 make a pretty strong case for an answer.