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I could start this column by telling you about the turmoil Kansas City Royals fans have gone through in the past 30 years, and how it was once a proud, dominant franchise that was an October staple.
I could start this column by telling you about the happiest 30-minute phone call I’ve ever had with both of my parents after Salvador Perez capped off four separate Royals comebacks to send my beloved baseball team to the ALDS for the first time in 29 years.
I could start this column by telling you that Kansas City has endured more sports sorrow than Cleveland and Buffalo combined.
I could start this column by telling you about all the times the Royals lost more than 100 games in a season, or about how they once sent a guy with a 5+ ERA to the All-Star Game, or about the time a player got hit in the back by a cutoff throw, or how Sidney Ponson was the starting pitcher in the first game at the renovated Kauffman Stadium, or how they once traded Jermaine Dye, Johnny Damon, and Carlos Beltran for scraps.
But I won’t.
I’ll start this column by telling you about the time I crumbled to the floor in my one-bedroom apartment in South Austin as I watched Christian Colon dash across home plate while the Royals poured out of the dugout to mob Perez. First, there was absolute shock. Then came the pure, unbridled, lose-my-shit sports joy that I’ve experienced maybe once before in my life. Next came the realization that the game was actually over and the only thing left to do was to take in all the sights and sounds, and try to explain to my girlfriend why her adult boyfriend had been brought to tears by a game. In all honesty, I blacked out after the ball bounced down the left field line. I came to as I was sitting on my couch, my eyes welled up with sports tears as I sputtered out a string of incoherent words between half-laughs and stifled sobs. It was like watching the end of “Rudy,” “Field of Dreams,” and “The Shawshank Redemption” all at the same time. An emotional overload.
So, why was I driven to tears?
I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’ve watched the play at least 15 times in the last 12 hours. I’ve teared up three times since I started writing this. I can’t explain it, but I’ll try. The reason we cry because of sports is the payoff. An average sports season, whether it be MLB, NBA, NHL, NFL, or NCAA, lasts around four months. A third of the year. I don’t play in the games. I don’t work for the team. I have no direct impact on the day-to-day operations of the team. Yet I still feel like I’m a part of it. I’ve invested thousands of dollars, hours, and days, and I’ve sacrificed my sanity for most of my life. This was the payoff. Imagine spending at least 25 years of your life waiting for something to happen, and then it finally happens. Last night’s game was akin to asking out the love of your life 29 times and getting shot down 28 times. On the twenty-ninth try, she finally says yes, and then she tells you she’s dying and there’s nothing you can do about it. Then she dies, and then she’s resurrected back to life by the medical miracle of small ball and the two of you ride off into the sunset.
You can say “there’s no crying in baseball” all you want, but as those tears gently rolled down my face last night, it was the first time in my life I ever thought Tom Hanks was wrong about anything. Baseball is the great American game, TV ratings be damned. To finally be a main character on the grandest stage in the grandest game this country has to offer is more than thrilling.
The Kansas City Royals. The abandoned dog on the side of the road that you can’t help but feel sorry for finally found a home. The Kansas City Royals. The payoff for years of 71-91, when you had a Cy Young ace pitcher. The payoff for the 1994 players’ strike that cut short a 14-game winning streak. The payoff for all those wasted late summer nights watching September call-ups. The payoff for paying full price to watch the Royals get drubbed by the Montreal Expos on a Tuesday afternoon with 8,000 other insane people.
It all came crashing down Tuesday night, and I couldn’t help myself..
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Brian McGannon
What do I love? I love happy hour, a good golf tan, and getting moderately drunk during dinner.
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Rudy was offsides.
So you read Jeff Passan’s article, too, huh?
This is exactly how I felt when my Rangers won game 6 of the 2010 ALCS to send us to our first World Series, with A Rod as the last out to boot. I was in the stands sobbing uncontrollably.. Because after years of paying for season tickets to watch losing seasons, getting shit from other team’s fans (and our own to be honest), and never losing hope that miracles DO happen my boys had finally done it. I still get chills thinking about it.
I’ll believe in miracles when the Cubs win it all.
I get chills because of game 6 of the ’11 world series.
Thinking about that game makes me physically sick. Ugh. Should have been ours.
Still one of the greatest games ever played.
I really wanted this feeling after last year’s Super Bowl, but the game was just too pathetic to even be excited about. Even when a Seattle team finally doesn’t suck, they manage to ruin it.
Watch the Saints still win the NFC Championship game when the Vikings were already inside field goal range with seconds left and try not to cry. Fucking try
The Royals demise was payback for the blown call in the ’85 Series.
Don’t worry they’ll blow it