What a lovely season it's been. Thanks to my subscription to Major League Baseball's web streaming service, I've seen more games this year than in any since I've moved to the UK. The comfort of once again having the childhood sounds of the crack of the bat and the hum of the crowd in the background of a weekend garden was a delightful and consistent bit of stress relief.
Even better, of course, was the fact that my beloved St. Louis Cardinals romped over just about everyone they met, holding the lead in their division for most of the year. Pujols continues on his path towards being one of the greatest players of all time, the rest of the lineup was filled with star performances, we hosted the All Star Game and the front office spent the money needed in mid-season to bring in the added firepower needed for a pennant race. We wrapped our division championship with weeks to spare and I looked forward to the prospect of an October filled with sleepless nights, as I took my laptop to bed with me to catch live games in the wee hours.Which brings us to Saturday night, when I snuggled into a massive pile of pillows with a big glass of wine at my elbow, laptop on my knees and a growing sense of doom in the pit of my stomach. Because, you see, this was a best of five series and my beloved boys were already down by two games. Yes, the victors that commentators had expected to sweep through this first round had already lost twice to the Dodgers. Saturday night's game was win, or go home.
They never should have been in this position. They were one out away from winning game two. The Dodgers sent a pop fly to left field. In 99.999% of games, that would have been it. The losers would have moved their heads on to the next match, the crowds would have been leaving for the car park. But Matt Holliday lost the ball in the lights and missed what should have been an easy catch. The Dodgers tied it up. And then, like scrappy terriers down a juicy rat hole, they hung on with determination until they beat us.
It is fantastically rare to see those kind of last-minute, come from behind victories. And if it hadn't been against my team, I would have been awed by the sheer beauty of it. As it was, I had to admire this as an example, once again, of baseball as metaphor for life. Winners ... TRUE winners ... never give up. No matter how grim things look, they keep playing is if they can win. They run to first base when it looks like they're going to get thrown out. They believe that every pitch can change the result. They know in the fibre of their souls that everything they do has the opportunity to make a difference. In the words of the immortal Yogi Berra, they believe that "it ain't over 'til it's over."
The Dodgers heads were in that place in Game 2. The Cardinals seemed to bend like poppies before a stiff wind. Saturday night was always going to be about attitude. Could the Cardinals come roaring back, or did the Dodgers already have the upper hand?
I suspect you already know the answer.
Through the magic of the internet I was there, live. More than 50,000 people were packed into that ballpark I know so well; no doubt I could have picked out familiar faces if I'd been watching on a wider screen. (It's a small town, especially when it comes to the corporate boxes and season ticket holders.) In addition to the game I had my Facebook account running, where fellow St. Louis expats were sharing game commentary from New York, Washington and other points abroad. I might have been alone but, in the virtual world, that bed was quite crowded.
All that good will we were channelling toward Busch Stadium didn't do much good, however. The nine men in red looked defeated from the first inning. If there is an aura that comes from thinking like a winner, the Dodgers had it. At 1am the score was 4-0 in LA's favour, and I had to go to sleep. I know that I wasn't thinking like a winner at that point. But I just couldn't lose any more sleep in advance of seeing another team dance in victory on the St. Louis turf.
So, congratulations to the Dodgers. And a lesson to us all. Never give up. Keep that terrier spirit. Know that you can make a difference, down to the very last second of the very last chance. Attitude is everything.
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