We Coulda Been a Contender

It was the bottom of the ninth, and we were ahead by one. They had a man on third, at the least, and the batter hit a bouncer to right. The right fielder caught the ball and heaved it to home as we all held our breath. And that's where the dream skipped a frame. I wasn't happy about the outcome, but at the same time I thought that the runner beat the throw. In the real world, they couldn't have won with just that one runner (slider, actually) crossing the plate; it would have taken two. One run just gets them a tie. So it makes more sense if it was my team on base, down by one with two outs, and the runner gets tagged. But that's not how I remember it.

And that"s how life is. They say that sports is a metaphor for life, but I'm not buying it. I think that malformed dreams about sports are the real metaphor. In real life, teams like the Cubs go for centuries (OK, decades) without winning The Big One. Does this mean that everyone from Chicago is a loser?

Bad question. How about the San Francisco Forty-Niners? They went from the top of the heap to the bottom in a hurry, seemingly the second the team got rid of all the Italians who had been in charge. Another bad example... things like this really do happen when you start getting rid of Italians.

Miami Dolphins? Sorry, I don't follow them. Same with any hockey team. And I'd mention the Sacramento Kings, who never get to the Finals, but in that case it's an accurate reflection of the town.

So what am I really trying to say here? Perhaps that the antics of a bunch of overpaid men or women wearing splashy uniforms and sweating a lot for maybe an hour or two or three doesn't have much of anything to do with our lives, except to provide some form of entertainment for a while. Believe me, I was there, pacing around in my living room in 1986 when Buckner let that ground ball dribble through just under his glove. Was I happy? Does a bear do things in the woods that most of us do elsewhere? Yup. You betcha. Did it change my life? Nope. I had the same crummy job the next day, didn't have a girlfriend, and my cat barfed on the floor.

Actually, I have no idea what the cat did. But she could have done it. She could have been an up chucker.