Congratulations on making it to the World Series! What a season.
As a transplant to Boston all the way from California, I’ve always appreciated your fervor. There’s no better place to be the home team than in Boston. Although I’ve only been here for two years, I’ve felt the crazy highs and plummeting lows right alongside the rest of the city.
I lived through the madness that wracked Keyes South the night the Patriots won LI. Then, I heard the cries of frustration around Walsh one year later as the Eagles stole the title. I was listening to Joe Kennedy III talk in Cushing when I first saw the video of Gordon Hayward’s ankle—what’s more Boston than that?
Boston, I love you. Just not right now.
I’ve been a Dodgers fan since before I knew what baseball was, wondering why my dad would sometimes sit in his recliner for four hours without moving a muscle, staring at the TV and occasionally giving a shout or a frustrated “urrghhhh.”
Growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area as a Dodger fan wasn’t easy. Living through the Giants’ “even year” madness from 2010-2014 was torture—seeing kids at my school who’d never cared about baseball skipping class to go to the parade then reappearing in class with shiny new orange-and-black gear, tags barely off. My dad would take me to games at AT&T Park or even the Oakland Coliseum, where we’d get jeers for our blue caps.
So, I’m no stranger to rooting against the home team. In fact, it’s my default.
Boston, you’re all too familiar with the feeling of a drought. Until 2004, yours was bleak, painful, seemingly endless. But three titles later, winning has become less of a miracle for you. That’s a wonderful thing! You should be proud of your recent success. But, don’t you think that your 2013 title could maybe tide you over for a few more years?
There hasn’t been a new World Series pennant hung at Dodger Stadium since 1988. The poetics of another title exactly 30 years later can’t be lost on you, Boston—you’ve always been one for superstition, fate, and, according to all that Sox merch with the little four-leaf clover, luck.
Fate aside, the time is nigh for a Dodgers championship. I had my heart broken last year watching the Astros hit in run after run in Game 7 while my beloved Dodgers hung their heads and walked back to the dugout empty-handed.
At the beginning of this season, I had even less hope than I’d had that night last October. The Dodgers put up a 14-17 start through the beginning of May, and six key players—Justin Turner, Corey Seager, Hyu-Jin Ryu, Yasiel Puig, Rich Hill, and Logan Forsythe—visited the DL in the first month. When Seager went out for the season for Tommy John surgery, I thought for sure we were doomed.
But the season went on, and we pulled out of the slump. NL West opponents started going down, then the entire NL. The Giants, who’d given the Dodgers a painful beating at the beginning of the season, fell to the boys in blue four games in a row in September. We got Manny Machado! Brian Dozier! Postseason predictions went from nada to maybe a Wild Card bid to winning the NL West to…well, you know the rest.
Boston, you’re the most passionate group of sports fans there is. And I know there’s nothing you love more than your Sox. I admire your undying support for a sport that’s waning in popularity, abandoned by those who find it slow or boring. You know a noble game when you see one.
That’s why I can’t wait to don my blue cap and Kershaw jersey and watch you lose.
A lifelong Dodgers fan