Friday, October 30, 2020

Baseball salvation

It's only been a few days, but I keep reminding myself (and others out here do as well): World Champions.  #1.  "We" did it!  Because for so long it seemed like it would happen, I still can't believe it.  In public, anyone in Dodger gear finds another (I've had it done to me and done it myself): Hey!  World Champs!  

This might sound like an aside, but it fits in with the story: I've worked with metrics of one kind or another my entire adult life.  Said metrics that are used for business decisions.  And since Day 1, I/we have always said that nothing is absolute, that these are used to guide decisions.  Sometimes you go with your gut, and you're proven wrong.  This, now more than ever, applies to baseball.  And it's well known that stats help.  I am sure a team uses "cyber metrics" (a new term I'd never heard before this series, thanks Fox Sports) as guidance for key situations.  But if you're a Dodger fan and Dave Roberts is managing your team, and you'd see Dave looking at his cards in the dugout, you knew you were in trouble.

Why does a former ballplayer, one with such success, go past his instinct and rely on the cards?  Is he a pushover?  That he's told to and he does what he says?  Does this then absolve him of keeping too close a focus on the game?  Us Dodger fans knew the answer was somewhere in there.  And as a result, despite what success occurred in the regular season, we were just the 1990's Braves.  The hot glare of the post season shows up, and sooner or later "we" melt under stupid decisions.  

The 2010s were tough times for Dodger fans.  The 1st half of the decade the Giants fans could rightly taunt southern California with their rings and their ability to make it happen.  The 2nd half was a letdown, one way or another.

2015 hurt but we learned that Zack Greinke's only motivating factor is money.  Is the check fatter?  That's job #1.  It also removed Donny Yankees from the team, so all was not lost.  2016 hurt but hey, it was the Cubs, they went on, and god bless em.  2017 "we" make the World Series!  Yes, the Astros cheated, we all know this, but it's still a loss.  Altuve can eat shit.  We lost 2 extra inning games, don't forget.  And we did win one in Houston as trash cans banged around.  Altuve can fuck off.  2018, Boston was the better team.  Dave was a Red Sox hero, and didn't want to tarnish that in any way.  Game 4 was right in our hands.  Dick Mountain was doing his thing.  And then Dave looked at his magic cards.  And Dick walked to the dugout and threw his glove at the wall because he was dealing hot sauce and he knew what was coming.  The Dodgers lost everything after that.  Farhan and his smug self-satisfaction left, too...sadly leaving behind the "cyber metrics" thinking to Dave.  Since Farhan's gone to the Giants, they've had a losing record every year.  2019 was...again, right fucking there.  An NLDS embarrassment, but at least the team that beat us won it all.  Scioscia rumors began.  Last chance, Dave.

So in Game 4 of this World Series, when Joan Baez was removed, then put back in to pitch in a moment...in Game 5, when Big K was taken out because "we talked before the game about the number of batters he'd face" I knew we'd be fucked.  The magic cards were out again.  And here, instead of going with what you're seeing on the field, it was the magic cards stopping all momentum.  And we'd be fucked again, and would anyone care?  But then, just then, in Game 6 when we were getting steamrolled...Dave Roberts magical cards floated to Tampa Bay's dugout.  Their starter (an off-season auto mechanic if I had to guess) was lights out and then POOF!  He's gone!  Saints be praised!  

The self inflicted wounds healed because someone else decided to hurt themselves.  I don't like to win that way...but someone has to win, why not "us" - right?  It's real.  It exists, and it's ours.

Each October, after another Dodger downer, I'd place the LA cap on the shelf...to be worn again next Spring; maybe this year.  The wait continues.  And now?  In the words of Jacques Clouseau "Not anymore."  The champagne flows and flows.

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