It was quite a scene in Key West. As Scott Brosius crushed the most shocking home run since, uh, the night before, just about every pair of eyes in every sports bar on Duval Street stared relentlessly at the televisions overhead.

Everyone was watching the Weather Channel.

Margaritaville swelled with sports fans (and reporters like me) this weekend because of the powerboat championships that were supposed to be held here, but few spoke of anything other than Hurricane Michelle. "At least people will remember my name," said a powerboat racing promoter named Michelle, who watched the catamarans bounce and sway along the white-capped harbor while the rest of the island battened down the hatches.

Even hardcore mechanics and racers had the TV in the trailer tuned in to weather updates. Powerboaters actually like choppy waters because, in the words of veteran throttleman Art Lilly, "it separates the men from the boys."

But this week's gales only served to separate the boats from the water. Three boats flipped in one race on Wednesday. "You better stick around for the race Saturday," said one insider, "because somebody's gonna die."

So as the rain made diagonal streaks on the windows of PT's bar, murmurs about squalls and storm surges overwhelmed a few rounds of applause for the D-Backs' offensive fireworks early in Game 6. Over at Sloppy Joe's later in the evening -- as 'Zona cruised into the eighth -- a rumor surfaced that the Keys would be evacuated on Friday morning.

By that point, many of the bar's patrons had drowned their fears in a rendition of "Cheeseburger in Paradise." Apparently the Parrotheads had chosen this weekend to congregate in Key West as well. None seemed overly concerned with either baseball or barometric pressure.

But while the rest of the nation gasped at Brosius' two-out game-tying goner, most folks here only saw replays. And as the hearty Parrotheads gathered again for Friday night crooning, news circulated that the race was postponed. By Saturday morning, the Keys would be under mandatory evacuation orders.

This writer saw it coming. On the way to the bar for Game 6, I navigated through a rain shower by closely following the taillights directly in front of me. When the rain slowed, I was able to make out a weathered bumper sticker.

It read: "Nature Bats Last."

Eric Adelson is an associate editor at ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at eric.adelson@espnmag.com.