I have only a finite number of baseball seasons left. Well, actually, we all have only a finite number of baseball seasons left. But time is fleeting and this fan base really wants to celebrate at least one baseball championship with more than a socially-distant 11,000 fans in attendance as happened in 2020.
This was supposed to be the year. The team had a record 111 victories in the regular season. Based on all the baseball seasons I have enjoyed to date, this edition of the Los Angeles Dodgers may have been the best team I have ever rooted for. It was going to be a long and glorious postseason all the way through November 8. It was supposed to be one I would celebrate with my friends hopefully in Dodger Stadium.
Nope.
I think back to another team I reveled in. The 1986 New York Mets. As I stood in the Shea Stadium upper deck on that damp-ish October 27th night and watched Jesse Orosco motor through the last three outs, my best friend from high school Danny and I had our arms around each other. He said one of the wisest things ever.
"We need to enjoy this moment. Because we may not have another one ever again."
No shit.
We can talk about what happened to the Dodgers last week. They were inept at so many things. They were the Joe Bidens of the baseball diamond. And manager Dave Roberts was using the bullpen like Biden manages the economy.
But it is all moot. We can also gripe about the idiotic MLB playoff seedings. Now you have the two lowest seeded teams playing to be the National League representative to the World Series. And gunshots are going off at Fox Sports executive suites as they contemplate much reduced ratings and much increased makegoods for their advertisers.
Yep, moot. But I had to say it anyway.
Again, there are only so many baseball seasons left for...all of us.
Dinner last night: Hamburger.
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