Well, that sucked, even though I knew it was coming and even though I am going through a lifelong process of trying to not get worked up about sports. And don't worry because I'm not worked up. I expected it, and still held to faint hope, and then it happened just the way I expected it.
Two words : Yu Darvish. Yeah, he's a great pitcher but boy did he suck in this World Series. And nobody knows it better than he does, which brings me to......
Two more words : Dave Roberts. He's the Dodger manager, and the question must be asked - "why oh why did he leave Yu Darvish in, yet again, for the second time in the Series, when Darvish was getting pounded by Houston hitters. In both games Darvish started, he got hammered from the first batter, and both times, Manager Dave Roberts waited until five runs had scored before pulling him.
Five runs, both times.
I mean, Houston was the better team, they had no quit in them, but still.....
The Dodgers could have and probably would have won the Series if Dave Roberts had pulled Yu Darvish in at least one of his two horrible starts, and they would have won for certain if he had pulled Yu in both games.....before five runs had scored and put the Dodgers in a huge hole.
Oh well, screw it. That's why I don't watch sports. I follow sports, but I don't watch 'em.
"What's up"?, you ask. "It's not like somebody died". And you are right. And it's funny, because the depression of losing doesn't last. I'm over it already, for real, and probably a lot quicker than Yu Darvish will be, poor guy. And conversely, the elation of winning doesn't last much longer. Maybe a few days. After that it's like, "hmmmmm..........oh yeah, they won. What's next"?
So it seems that, for me at least, sports are very much in the moment, and that after the moment is over, the feeling, whether depression or elation, doesn't last very long.
But while the game is going - any game, pick a game, baseball/basketball/football/even hockey! - I find myself all tensed up, gut-wrenched if my team is losing, and I don't like it. I also have an uncanny ability to Foresee The Outcome Of A Game. As mentioned yesterday, it has to be a game I am watching, and there has to be an emotional attachment, a team I care about. If those two criteria are met, I can almost always tell you who is gonna win from very early on.
To sum up, this emotional attachment goes way back, to when I was a kid and my heroes were UCLA basketball players. They won all the time, so heartbreak was not in the equation. But their football team was not nearly as great. I went to the 1969 USC vs. UCLA game at the Coliseum. The joint was packed, 90,000 fans, all rooting for Trojans or Bruins. I was rooting for the Bruins of course, and they were winning, with about 2 or 3 minutes left. But USC had the ball and were moving. Except, the Bruin defense had stopped them, and they were still pretty far from the goal line on fourth down.
One more play and the game would be over. All the Bruins had to do was to stop them for one more play. The Trojans had to go for it., even though they were miles away from a touchdown.....they couldn't punt, it was their last chance.
The ball was hiked. Young quarterback Jimmy Jones dropped back and threw a bomb, a gigantic pass towards the end zone that overflew his receiver by a long way. Game over! UCLA wins! Right?
Wrong! Some blind-as-a-bat ref (aren't they all, haha) called "pass interference" on a UCLA defender, even though the ball was overthrown by many feet and was entirely uncatchable. That play, and that call by the ref, gave USC another chance.
And in that moment in my young life I was imbued with Psychic Sports Intuition. I was nine years old, and I knew what was coming next, and it came : Sports Heartbreak.
On the next play, made possible by the phony-baloney "pass interference" call, the ball had been moved close to the goal line, and of course young Jimmy Jones threw a quick touchdown pass to give USC the last second victory.
That 1969 USC/UCLA game is very famous in the scope of the two teams' rivalry, and those final two plays are the reason why. You can Google "USC/UCLA game 1969 + Jimmy Jones" if you wish, though I guarantee you it was a legendary game. I was there, halfway up in the stands with my friend Joe Lee, and my Dad and his Dad, who got us the tickets.
And I was so excited that My Team was about to win the game. I felt the electricity of the thousands of UCLA fans. The stadium was pounding. And then, with a bad call, in a matter of a minute or so, the entire game was turned on it's head and the opposing team won. And in those days, USC was The Enemy. The USC/UCLA game was life or death.
I cried on the way home, in the car. Yep. It was that awful.
And in looking back, I think it was at that game that my emotional difficulties with sports began.
I was a nine year old kid, and that game - while it was happening - was my world.
I was Engulfed In The Moment. I had been taught the meaning of the word "competiton" that same year, 1969, by my Judo teacher at the Los Angeles Athletic Club, a man named George Damon. Judo was all about defeating your opponent ; comp-e-ti-tion! was the way Mr. Damon pronounced it in a Japanese accent.
I didn't love my Saturday morning Judo classes. My Dad enrolled me in them, maybe seeing something in me that would acclimate to the sport, and I was doing okay and didn't mind Judo, and even won a few matches against skinny little boys like myself. I was a white belt, the lowest, and going for a yellow belt.
But then George Damon paired me with a twelve year old girl who was bigger than I was. You know how girls develop before boys do. And I was only nine anyway, and she was twelve, on the verge of puberty.
I got tossed around, and thrown.....meaning "flipped" in Judo parlance, and finally pinned to the mat.
I got beat up, in a Judo match, by a twelve year old girl, and I was humiliated, as nine year old boys will be, and that was it for me. I told my Dad I was not gonna go to any more Judo lessons. And he didn't make me. He waited about a year and then signed me up for handball instead.
And I kicked ass there. Beat some older kids, and even a few grown men. A bit of elation resulted, and some confidence. But it did no good for my participation in Spectator Sports, which remains to this day, indoctrinated in me no doubt by that 1969 'SC/UCLA game, and not only by the game itself, but by my own emotional makeup.
I don't like High Drama. I don't like Make-Or-Break.
I know that sports are only for fun, but still....something is instilled in me that makes it nearly impossible for me to become emotionally involved, unless my team is gonna clearly win in a blowout.
It's weird, I know. But there are other guys like me. Jerry West is a famous one. He was the former great basketball player who became the Lakers general manager. He once said that, if a game became close, he would leave The Forum and get in his car and drive the freeway until it was over.
Jerry even suffered from ulcers for a while.
So that's what it's like to get worked up over a sporting event.
I don't do it anymore, and I have tried to understand where it came from, in my case.
I do love sports, and my teams, but I also like it when the games, and that feeling, are overwith.
Then I can get back to thinking about things that are truly important to me, mindboggling even.
And contrary to popular belief, it's good to boggle your mind.
See you in the Freakin' Morning, lol. :):)
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