“The one constant through all the years,” said James Earl Jones’ character Terence Mann in the classic movie Field of Dreams, “has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time.”
If you haven’t noticed, I love baseball. Before I was potty-trained my dad instilled in me a passion for the pastime. Today the postseason begins, making October the most exciting month in all of sports.
Baseball appears to be as predictable as a price-hike at Starbucks. It’s easy to pencil in the teams with the deepest pockets for the playoffs. Back in the spring, I forecasted that the Angels, Redsox, Yankees, and Twins would reach the postseason from the American League and the Phillies, Braves, Giants, and Cardinals would be battling in the National League playoffs. I was correct on five of the eight teams. The Angels tanked this year and the Redsox suffered more casualties than General Custer and still won 89 games. To be honest, I don’t know what happened to the Cardinals.
But what makes baseball great is its uncanny ability to be unpredictable. Who knew the Reds would run away with NL central, the Rangers would cruise in the AL West and that the Padres would contend for the postseason before losing on the last day of the season? The Rays were in the World Series two years ago, so their great season is not a shocker.
After falling in love with baseball, my father taught me to hate. Abhor. Despise. Loathe. Detest. The object of my hatred: The Yankees. The Bronx Boogers. I would root for the Taliban if they played against the Yankees in the World Series. It’s a national holiday at my house when the Yanks lose a postseason series. Yankee Elimination Day, I call it. It started when Luis Gonzalez blooped that Texas Leaguer over a drawn in Derek Jeter to win the 2001 World Series for the Diamondbacks. Between 2002 and 2007 the Angels, Marlins, Redsox, Angels, Tigers and Indians knocked New York to the mat. And each year I popped the champagne as if it were New Year’s Eve. The Yankees missed the playoffs in 2008, but bounced back to win another world title last year. Which is why, starting today, I’m lifelong resident of the Twin cities. If Minnesota falters, I’ll be shopping online for Rays or Rangers gear.
Baseball appears to be dominated by the ultra-rich because of the Yankee’s success. But seven of the top nine teams with the largest payrolls missed the playoffs this year. Also, just because the Yankees have consistently overspent their way to October doesn’t mean that the competition isn’t balanced. This year’s postseason features five new teams. And starting in 2001, eight different teams have won the World Series. Only the Redsox won more than once in the past decade.
Rooting against the Yankees causes one to be a fan of the underdog. The once-cursed Redsox were the poster child for loveable losers. But now they’ve won two championships, they spend nearly as much money as the Yankees, and their fans are doubly obnoxious. Having the Redsox miss the playoffs this year is nearly as sweet as celebrating Yankee Elimination Day.
In the NL, the Phillies have reached the World Series for two straight years. So they’re just pinstripes of another color. With the way players shift from team to team these days, I find myself pulling for players I’ve grown to appreciate. I liked Reds shortstop Orlando Cabrera when he was on the Angels, so I hope he and his untested Cincinnati teammates can take down the Phillies. Now that Barry Bonds is no longer in San Francisco, I don’t have to cringe if the Giants do well. Plus, that pitching staff will be fun to watch.
The conundrum is what to do with the Braves. Back in 1991, Atlanta unexpectedly went to the World Series and lost a thriller to the Twins. For nearly a decade and a half Atlanta was a model of consistency, but only captured one championship. Somehow, all that winning did not spoil the Braves experience for me. Bobby Cox is a classic. The trio of Maddux, Glavine, and Smoltz was just too good to deny. Atlanta didn’t overspend, but instead used trades and their farm system to maintain excellence. However, the annoying tomahawk chop does take them down a notch. It’s nearly as bothersome as having to listen to FOX broadcast Tim McCarver for the next three weeks.
The other day I was following status updates on Facebook of my friends who are also baseball fans. Somehow, unbeknownst to me, I stumbled on some sort of World Wide Web portal where I was getting status updates from ballplayers involved in some of the most famous postseason moments.
Vic Wertz: I should have pulled the ball. I hate the Polo Grounds (Willie Mays “Likes” this).
Bobby Thomson: I <3 the Polo Grounds.
Enos Slaughter: Running out for milk. Be back in a sec. Literally.
Johnny Pesky: I’ll be “holding” all my phone calls this October.
Kirk Gibson: Teaching my Diamondback players to hit a back-door slider …
Reggie Jackson: With one more at-bat I woulda hit four!
Bill Buckner: Going out for beers with Schiraldi and Stanley.
Don Larsen: Just returned from the chiropractor. Rizzuto, you hoist Berra next time.
Carlton Fisk: So excited! I start my new job tomorrow directing airplanes on the tarmac!
Bill Mazeroski wrote on Joe Carter’s wall: Joe, you may have been the highest-paid player at the time of your homer, but I’m in the Hall of Fame. Scoreboard!
Don Denkinger: Will be sending thank you notes to the first umpire to blow a call in the playoffs. Need Jim Joyce’s address.
Shoeless Joe Jackson: Twelve hits including the series’ only homerun. I’m just saying.
Annie Kinsella: If I had a dime for every time my husband hears voices …
Terence Mann: Corn. It is what it is.
Karin Kinsella: Likes handsprings and dislikes hotdogs.
Doc Graham: Hat shopping for Alicia (Again). Sigh.
Ray Kinsella: Plowing under another field. It’s how I roll.
Tony Gervase: Hey! Dad? You want to have a catch?
Another 4-bagger, T-Boy.
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