It’s not the most unusual thing in baseball, but a guy pitching a no-hitter is still a special thing. And it’s not the result; it’s more about the process.

There have been three no-hitters pitched in the Major Leagues this year (in three different countries, by the way). There have been 299 since somebody invented baseball. Atlanta’s Sean Newcomb had a chance Sunday to make it an even 300.

But what’s special about a no-hitter is how it evolves during a game. You notice it after the fifth inning. Things start getting interested after six innings. You don’t call anybody and let them know after the seventh inning, but you want to. (ESPN will start running a crawl across the bottom of the screen around now.)

At this point, you strap in for the final six outs. But there is an X Factor in today’s baseball: Is he even going to get the chance?

Pitch counts being what they are in today’s baseball, you’d better check that total before you get too invested. The woods may be full of pitchers who have lost a no-hitter after the seventh inning, but the woods are also getting crowded with managers who have yanked a pitcher with a no-hitter after seven.

Atlanta manager Brian Snitker said later he knew after the seventh inning that he was going to let Newcomb go for it, even though the pitch count was elevated. Good for him. Though he had thrown more pitches than in any other game in his major league career, Newcomb was pitching with the same ease that he had earlier in the game.

So Newcomb cruised through the eighth. (Now it’s time to start calling people.) Everyone in Atlanta just wanted to skip through the Braves’ turn at bat and get to the big moment.

Newcomb got the first out.

Newcomb got the second out.

He got two strikes on the final batter. One strike away. The crowd was cheering like a World Series game.

And then he left one in a bad spot and Los Angeles’ leadoff hitter Chris Taylor ripped one in left field. Collective groan.

But the point is that a late July game became something special before everyone’s eyes. I know a guy who had a ticket for a Nolan Ryan-pitched game in Houston in the early 1980s and decided not to go (as I remember, it was hangover-induced reason). Of course, Ryan threw a no-hitter. My guy has regretted it ever since.

Sean Newcomb may never get a chance to pitch a no-hitter again. The 40,000 fans at SunTrust Park may never get a chance to see a no-hitter in person again.

But it was fun while it lasted.