My love scale used to be simple. It was Mary, kids, pizza, everything else. My undying love for someone other than my Mary has reached an obsession. This love is for the Toronto Blue Jays and they are effectively running around on me, nightly.
They sucked me back in. From my adolescence in the 80’s to last season, I have had this urge to will them to win. I’m not greedy and demanding a World Series Championship. I would settle for a playoff berth and a run into the later rounds. Watching them implode the past 10 days has been ferociously painful for me. I won’t quit on them and frankly believe they will right the ship but I’m convinced I can’t watch the moment unfold anymore.
They are the kind of team that you want to root for. A bunch of looney dudes with bad hair and puffed out egos traipsing around the field with the ability to hit a ball further than a man should. Other times, you just can’t watch the train wreck of strikeouts with men on base and blown bullpen outings where the game seems in hand. I know that for 20 years, I didn’t care about baseball in September and I should be enjoying every nail biting moment of the season. In reality, it sucks to sweat this out nightly. I pray for a blowout for the Jays and I white knuckle the tight ones. I am elated when the Jays take a lead and the lows are so low when the opposition punches back.
I know i have a few more weeks of this sweating and it will either be over or I will sigh relief. Then the sweating will continue until its over. I’m a Jays fan and I can’t stop watching.
Marco