I can’t. Guys? I can’t. I cannot. It happened, and I am processing, and if you don’t know what I’m talking about, I don’t want you to talk to me anymore because I don’t understand nor trust you.
The Blue Jays won the ALDS and now they’re up against the Kansas City Royals, and we all watched the most exciting game that’s ever happened in the history of sports, forever.
I thought about writing about something celebrity-based or about the end of ANTM (RIP) or about anything I normally write about, but guys? I can’t. Not when the entire population of Canada underwent a complete and total restoration of spirit. Do you know who cares about celebrity news right now? Not me. Not unless we’re talking about Jose Bautista who, after the most stressful inning of all time hit a homer, flipped his bat, and brought home everyone on base and also all of us, who all became very religious after we took the lead over Texas, 6-3. (You know: after Texas’ pity run that I can’t and refuse to explain because it was all a travesty, a terrible travesty.) And, of course, by “religious” I mean, “we all pray at the alter of baseball now, go home.”
I know this sounds irrational. I don’t care. Last night, I cared more about baseball than I did about the birth of family members and any/all personal victories. I felt closer to strangers than I did to my own father, who left the house because he couldn’t handle watching the game because it was “too stressful.” (What a disgrace.) (He ended up watching it at a bar with his friend.) (We’re fine now.) I sat in my car and cursed and yelled, listening to the game on the radio like Billy Beane. Then I cried actual human tears when Jose did what Jose does best. You know when Pam in The Office says, “I feel God in this Chili’s tonight?” That was me. Only it wasn’t Chili’s, because that isn’t a Canadian chain. It was wherever the game happened to be.
I was Joseph Gordon-Levitt in Angels in the Outfield. Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams. The Racine Belles in A League Of Their Own. That character in Platoon who’s on the cover of the DVD case, only I’m screaming in joy, not madness. (Although I am certain no one who heard me freaking out thought the former.) I was every slow-motion shot of a movie character scream-crying after somebody does something cool. I was Rudy. I’ve never seen Rudy, but he sure as shit looks happy in that photo everyone associates with that movie.
And do you know what? I usually hate public displays of emotion. KEEP IT TOGETHER, I tell myself, because honestly I hate crying more than most things (and I hate a lot of things). But yesterday? How dare you not emote. How dare you not, after 22 years, embrace the mob mentality of happiness and accept that baseball is the best, the Jays are equally so, and my jacket is freaking amazing, because it is.
You know what line that goes, “And in that moment I swear we were infinite?” Of course you do. I’m not going to say it because it’s far too sincere for me, but I am going to say, that in that moment, we were all that beautifully-flipped bat courtesy of Jose Bautista, our best friend and also religious saviour. May we spend the rest of the day, ignoring work to re-watch that moment. May we roll our eyes and dismiss anyone who says they don’t care about baseball or who use the term, “sprots.” And for the last time, may we all be the RA Dickey of our own lives, running around and hugging strangers because no one has ever been so happy in their lives.
Although, for the record, I’m a little upset I wasn’t invited to the after-party. It’s like the Blue Jays didn’t even see my jacket.
