I don’t think I’m getting much done today. It’s not yet 9:00 am as I write this and my hands are already jittery, my stomach an unsettled mess, and overall anxiety level is too high for this early.
Game Seven is supposed to be one of the best phrases in sports. But it’s doing a number on me today.
I would love a repeat of last night’s 10–0 Royals rout, where a 7-run second inning ended the game soon after it began. I would love a three-hour coronation rather than a four-hour nail biter where every pitch adds an exponential amount of pressure. I fear tonight is going to be a tense game that is not decided until deep into the night. And why not, that’s how this whole thing started, with three-straight extra inning games that kept me up to or past 1:00 am.
I should be chilled out. This wasn’t supposed to happen, right? Thus, isn’t this all gravy? Isn’t getting to the last game of the last series validation for this team? Won’t the memories of the last month outweigh any negatives that come from tonight? I keep telling myself all that but right now it’s not helping.
This has been such a fun month, and I’m trying to force my mind to think of it in those terms. I’m trying to hang on to the surprise and joys of the last four weeks. I’m trying to turn that stress and worry into excitement and anticipation. But that’s tough to do when there are no more tomorrow’s left.
I helped C. carry a project into school this morning. The Royals-rooting librarian stopped me and introduced me to the wife of M.’s teacher, who grew up in Kansas City. She unzipped her jacket to show off her Royals sweatshirt that she still had from back in 1985. A dad, who is a Cardinals fan, brushed past us and teasingly told us there was no loitering allowed at St. P’s and we needed to break it up.
That was three of us in Indianapolis. I can’t imagine what the water coolers and break rooms will be like in Kansas City today.
So, one more game. One last chance for the impossible dream to come true. One more day for one of the best sports stories ever to play out. I can’t wait.
Apologies to fans of the 1967 Boston Red Sox for stealing that description. ↩