Peanuts and Popcorn

I used to consider baseball one of the most boring sports imaginable. People sat around. The pitchers would throw the ball to first base, to prevent the base stealer from going too far.

I saw two of the games that lead the Red Sox to overcome a 3-1 deficit, and win against the Cleveland Indians leaving Cleveland, once again, to be sorriest sports city in the US, unable to win championships.

But something has made baseball more interesting to watch. First, like any sport, you generally have to care for one team or another. If you don't, then most sports are pointless. I suppose you can still admire it for artistry or skill, but nothing beats the irrational desire to have one team have more points than the other.

Once you get past that, you realize that, as much as anything, baseball is about nothing. If you want your team to win, you hope the pitcher doesn't give up runs. And baseball is tantalizing because of it. Players do, invariably, get on base. And they get even load up the bases. And sometimes, many times, the pitcher gets out of it, and the fans are relieved.

And because pitchers are so dominant, fans can be held breathless, hoping the team will score. An inning will go. Then, another, then another. Often, there are no last minute heroics. But because they are rare, when it happens, fans cheer. They're excited beyond belief.

And, so, for a while, the Red Sox and Indians seemed pretty close, and there was concern in Beantown that the Sox couldn't pull it out. And then, boom, boom, boom, scoring a-plenty, and the Red Sox had a comfortable lead and were heading to the World Series against the improbably Colorado Rockies, winner of 21 of 22 games.

And Cleveland.

Ah yes, Cleveland. Left to head home, and wonder what had happened to their precious 3-1 lead, and how they might face their fans, who, perhaps after all this time, understand that it is the fate of Cleveland teams not to fare as well as their bigger time brothers.