This is why...

...we watch the game.

People always ask why we play the game. And there are plenty of reasons why. But why do we watch? This is why. A-Rod, Teixiera, Jeter, Burnett, Dave Robertson (who?), Girardi... The look in the eyes of a generation's greatest player when all of the sudden you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this guy, who couldn't buy a hit in the postseason for five years, was absolutely, without a doubt, going to hit a home run. Unless they walked him.

And they didn't walk him.

The Sports Maunderer has had a pretty crappy six months. He's been manipulated, lied to, had rods stuck in his chest, his insides rearranged, and it is still excruciating to reach down for his Pringles. He had to leave the greatest house in the world to go to a city he couldn't care much less about, hours away from everyone he could very much care less about. To add insult to injury, a new blog opened up with possibly wittier, more intelligent and--amazingly enough--more elitist authors.

But A-Rod stepped into the batter's box and the Sports Maunderer might as well have never heard of surgery, psychopathic emotional denial, Pittsburgh, or obliquely angled opposable digits. Then the smoothest, most powerful swing this side of Babe Ruth and Ken Griffey Jr. launched a ball into the night, and everything was alive again. Soon after Dave Robertson stood alone on the mound, much as we all stand alone, only to be twice saved by the friendly glove of the spectacular Mark Teixiera. If that isn't an analogy for leaning on your distant loved ones, I don't know what is.

And then Mark turned into Reggie Jackson, delivering on the big bucks thrown in his direction, and the question "why do we watch?" dissapeared into the cloudy (yeah, Pittsburgh kind of ruins poetic description) night. This is why. We endure a long season of tortuous, sinuous, treacherous twists of fate, the ups and downs of holding onto your team even when they are 15-17 and look more like the Pirates than the fabled Bronx Bombers... because in the end, holding on is more valuable than you can dream whilst undergoing the dog days of summer. It's why we get surgery, it's why we hold onto reality even when those around us can't, it's why we call home instead of going to a beer-soaked social function. It's why we keep writing even when other blogs are more obnoxious and esoteric and knowledgable (okay, so i'm joking a bit on that point. But not the others!)

It's why we believe in God, and it's why God is a baseball fan. He knows a little something about comeback wins, too. No other sport could produce this. no other sport would dare to try.

This is why we watch.

~The Sports Maunderer~