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There's nothing bigger for the game of baseball than a game seven in a World Series. This is the moment when all things collide and all the patience, calm and the incorrect perception of baseball's non-challance is challenged because of the immediacy of now. There is no tomorrow for these two teams, the Giants and the Royals. They both die tonight. One dies a champion and goes on to immortality. The other dies the runner-up, and fades from memory. All the greatness of the season, small and large, save for the winning team, won't matter after tonight.
The weather has cooled considerably. Winter is beyond knocking at the door, it's two steps inside and preparing to sit down. This is death. It is inevitable.
I've been asked by a lot of friends, family and fellow fans if I'll be cheering for the Giants tonight. After all, they're from the Bay Area, just like my beloved A's. These kind people are casual fans. They don't understand border skirmishes in sports and the particularly dire spat between the A's and Giants over a thing called "territorial rights". In short, no, I will not be cheering for the Giants tonight.
What about the Royals, then? They're the feel-great story of the season, right? A team that has been mired in mediocrity for decades that slowly began to simmer at the end of last season, scratched and clawed it's way into the post-season then flat steam-rolled the Angels and Orioles on the way to the World Series. They're also from the American League. Yay, DH, right?
No. Those Royal pissants urinated in my playoff Cheerios what seems like a year ago and last night at the same time. I despise them like a Kirk Gibson elbow pump (link intentionally left out because eff Kirk Gibson).
What will I be cheering for, then? A great game. I hope these two teams leave it all on the field. I hope the defense plays fundamentally sound, the pitchers paint the corners and a hitter or two leaves the yard to the shock and delight of all fans in a wild cacophony of black, orange and royal blue. I hope there are no injuries. I sincerely hope it's a great game. And I cheer for its end, too, so I might let go, more completely, of my ridiculous lingering disappointment over the A's not finding away to beat the Royals back in that horrid wildcard game. Cheering for death is not morbid, it's just a coping mechanism that encourages the cool darkness along so that warm, hopeful life might return again next spring.
