FanPost

Elation 2015

[I wrote the first bit of this in my blog in 2008 while I was living outside Philadelphia. The second part was written just after last year's Wild Card win. I think it’s only fitting to continue -- and share -- the story.]
October 29, 2008
I think one has to have grown up rooting for a baseball team to truly understand. I was introduced to the game as a boy growing up just north of Kansas City. This was the late 70s, when the Royals were very good -- the Royals of George Brett vying for batting titles and going ballistic over pine tar rulings, of Willie Wilson stealing base after base, of UL Washington replacing an old Freddie Patek and playing every game with a toothpick in his mouth. They kept going to the playoffs, but kept getting beaten by the Yankees. Chris Chambliss and his home run. Graig Nettles and his inside-the-parker. To a seven year old, it seemed like they'd never make it to the World Series, especially when they finished the next season behind those old farts on the California Angels.
The Royals did, though, in 1980. They went carrying the expectations of a nine year old who was convinced that no one could be good enough to beat his team. But then they ran into one of the greatest collections of mercenaries ever assembled in baseball, the Philadelphia Phillies, and their star, who chased .400 all year, fell to hemorrhoids (how I wish I was kidding) in the middle of the Series. I was crushed, and oh, how I hated those Phillies.
The Royals remained competitive, but it took a few years for that team to recapture that magic. They finally did when I was in high school and leaving for warmer climes. Those Royals won their way to the Series on my last day in Missouri. I'd watch my boyhood team finally win it all from an unfamiliar living room in Florida. From there, they started the slow slide to mediocrity, where they've remained the entirety of my adult life.
A funny thing happened during the intervening years. I found myself in Philadelphia, and being a baseball fan with a team conveniently down the road, I started going to games. And you know, I kind of liked these lovable losers I was watching. While they only had one clear superstar, that guy who would become famous for the bloody sock while pitching in Boston in 2004, they tried hard, with a young third baseman who was fearless and found himself thrown out trying to stretch hits far too long. These were not the hated Phillies of my youth, and thanks to their efforts and the unbridled passion of their fans (and Philly fans are the best in the business) won me over. I'd never give up my primary love for the team that allowed me to discover the game (real fans never do, and I freely rooted for the Royals their one trip here to the Bank), but I had found a new and comfortable relationship. And it's been good to me, bringing me a lot of entertainment, the chance to make new friends, and the once in a lifetime opportunity to see a live no-hitter. Jim Thome's 400th home run fell a few rows in front of me. The Wolf Pack danced after every K. I rooted for back to back (to back?) MVPs. And now, after letting me go to my first playoff game, a World Champion.
I've watched this Phillies team form. Six of the positional starters came through the farm system, most of them having been originally drafted by the team. Two of the four postseason starting pitchers did as well. I've gotten to know this team, and it's a special one. This year I saw improbable home runs that sparked or completed late rallies. I saw a team with a perfect closer that never lost when taking a lead into the ninth. I saw the left fielder and second baseman make initial arguments for MVP early in the year, and I saw the first baseman make a closing statement for it at the end. I saw the reigning MVP and team leader get benched for lack of hustle and admit that he was wrong. I saw a catcher steal home. I saw Shane Victorino get big hits and jump up and down on the base each time, clapping his hands like a kid who just won a prize. Geoff Jenkins ran through a stop sign and right past me on his way home for a come-from-behind win. I watched as the team built a dominating pitching staff from piece parts and question marks. And I waved my towel and shook the stadium with 46,000 fellow fans on a cold October night.
The Phillies are now the World Champions, having won a deciding game that started at half past eight on Monday night and ended just before 10 o'clock on Wednesday night. I am elated tonight, and tomorrow will largely be a glorious day filled with smiles throughout the region. But while I watch the thousands of Philadelphians currently out dancing in the streets (not burning the city down like some would have you believe), I can't help but pause in my own revelry and think wistfully of my Royals and the celebration I never got to have.
October 1, 2014
29 years. That is my answer to the unasked question of how a forty-three year old man can sit wiping tears from eyes after a single wild card game played a thousand miles away. 29 years of haplessness. Of wait til next year, or maybe the year after that. But now the drought is gone, and the Royals have not only played past game 162, they're now in the real postseason, having fought and scraped their way to a sudden death victory multiple times over a five hour marathon. They don't win pretty -- but nothing about the last 29 years has been pretty either, so we'll take the win.
I hold no illusions about what the playoffs will bring. The postseason is famously a crapshoot even at the best of times, and Bill Mazeroski's Pirates notwithstanding, it tends to loathe the scrappy team that has no business winning but does anyway. But I can tell from my experiences tonight that every game will be a gift, with every win a bonus, because tonight I found that a wild card win by the Royals could taste ten times as sweet as that 2008 World Series.
November 2, 2015 (early AM)
It’s amazing what a difference a year makes. After that amazing win to put the Royals into the playoffs for the first time since I was a high school freshman, the Royals continued an amazing run that put them 90 feet short in Game 7 of the World Series against an unstoppable force that just seemed more than human. And every game was a gift and every win was a bonus. I couldn’t even be that sad when ultimately the Royals had to watch another team celebrate a championship on their field.
This year, though? This year it was the Royals’ turn to be more than human. And we got to go along for the ride. This year, despite all the pundits believing last year was a fluke, the Royals and us fans knew better. I recalled the serenity of that late 2008 season when I believed any game could go the Phillies’ way, and this entire season felt that way with the Royals. I was always sure that every game would end in Salvy Perez dunking someone with a Gatorade bath (if he wasn’t dunked himself). Nothing was impossible for this team. There were no obstacles that they couldn’t surmount, even if they would stumble now and then.
This year brought me new players to cheer for. Players with classic baseball names like Ben and Johnny. We became used to ruling Web Gems and enjoyed every second of the rest of the world hating our support for our All-Stars. We watched our team overcome an awful injury to on of its leaders and close ranks as a family to help one of its own make it through a personal loss far too many times. Throughout, we knew that if the Royals just stayed true to their credo, grinding it out and keeping the line moving, things would turn out all right.
And things turned out more than all right. According to the analysts, the Royals shouldn’t have made the playoffs, let alone ruled the American League. But they did. There’s no way that a team that was six outs and four runs away from elimination in the division series should win the World Series. But they did. And instead of disbelief or glee that everything worked out, I’m instead experiencing a strange serenity, as this team all season long and never had reason to question, grinded it out, kept the line moving, and proved my belief was valid.
I don’t know what’s coming next season. Baseball is a funny game, as well as a funny business. New friends and old may disappear to other teams and bigger paychecks. But at least for now, I have to believe that everything will turn out all right. But I do know that I’ll be greeting next season with the words "World Champions" emblazoned across my chest. In Royal blue.

This FanPost was written by a member of the Royals Review community. It does not necessarily reflect the views of the editors and writers of this site.