More Than a Game

Well, the Red Sox made short work of the Rockies, but it was a memorable post-season to be sure. From Manny Ramirez’s walk-off home-run, to Dustin Pedroia leading off a game with one of his own, to Jonathan Papelbon being borderline psychotic (in the good way); the World Champs gave us lots to remember.

The Rockies too were an entertaining group, riding an unlikely historic run to their first World Series, giving us a little bit of everything from their dramatic play-in victory against the Padres on through the post-season.

You may remember that about a month ago we here at BWC made some predictions on the post-season. David Azuma and my girlfriend, Kylah, were the only two to rightfully foresee the end result that was the Red Sox over the Rockies. And while my predictions were horribly wrong, the post-season was a great reminder of why I love Sports and hate predictions. The games will always surprise us, something unexpected will undoubtedly find its way to the surface; whether it’s an unlikely 21-of-22 win streak, or a seemingly floundering team coming back from down 3-1 to win 7-straight games and win the World Series.

This week, we have a submission from a Rockies fan, Kendall Ruth, who aside from having a legendary baseball last name, also felt pulled to the game as the hometown team took their shot at immortality.

However, before I turn you over to Mr. Ruth, feel free (in the spirit of predictions) to see how I stack up against Bryan Allain, Chad Gibbs, and 5-year-old Parker Allain, whom I’m most excited to see eat my proverbial dust. Check out our predictions at Bryan’s fantastic blog.

Now, without further ado, are some reflections from a Rockies fan taken from the front lines of battle. Sports are a big part of my life, and it seems that at times people have a hard time understanding why, or exactly what it means. I think this article gives a great sense of what these games can mean to people, and just how much weight can be on a swing, a pitch, a hit or a strike-out.

MORE THAN A GAME

By Kendall Ruth

In the film, “Finding Forester,” there is a scene that takes place on the pitcher’s mound at Yankees stadium. Sean Connery, playing Forrester, is reminiscing on his past, baseball and his brother’s early death: “My brother and I were here, for every game…’til he left for the war. I thought it’d be the same when he came back…we spent our summers here (at Yankees Stadium) and if we were lucky? The Fall.”

Until recently, I watched this scene with a disconnected appreciation. Now, it is Fall and the Rockies are headed to the World Series for the first time ever, in the midst of a never-before-seen winning streak. All the while, the Indians, a team that was in last place just a few years ago, are shaming the Red Sox. And to boot, October 18th is the 5-year anniversary of my friend Joel Korkowski’s death - a man who made it through the early stages of the current war only to die in an F-18 training exercise.

If I lived anywhere but Denver, I am certain this season wouldn’t feel this surreal. I’ve never lived in a town whose baseball team is making a go at the world championships. I’ve never experienced the strange excitement that comes with this territory: the random outburst of cheering throughout the city during the playoffs, the gravitation of a whole city around an event that no one saw coming, soccer moms wearing baseball jerseys while drinking their Starbucks. What makes it peculiar is that the majority of people who live in this town are from somewhere else. They don’t really care for the home team unless the home team is winning. I’ll admit I am a part of this fickle mass. But it doesn’t change the wow-ness of it all.

I was living in New Zealand watching the World Series on Sky Satellite TV when I heard about Joel’s death. I was missing home, and watching baseball gave me a sense of comfort. Plus, I would well up with patriotism as I tried to explain to my Kiwi mates how the game was played and why it mattered. I was often greeted with looks of boredom or confusion - a response I mirrored while they tried to explain Cricket. But when I found out that Joel was dead, baseball became a warm embrace. Somehow I wasn’t 10,000 miles away in a different hemisphere, separated from all my mourning friends, as long as I watched the Angels and Giants fight it out on the diamond.

Now, I live just blocks from Rockies Stadium, I can hear the cheers and the fireworks, and maybe I’ll even get to be at a few games. Joel is still gone. His daughter, who was born six weeks after he died, gets to celebrate “Daddy Day” and learn more and more who this man was; what he meant to friends and family. The Rockies may or may not win the Series, but there sure seems to be a bounce in everyone’s step, whatever may come.

I never thought such a sport as baseball would carry so much depth with it; like the drafting of leaves as a truck moves down a fall street, all kinds of life gets swirled and pulled along with a Championship season. And Jamal responds to Forrester’s grief on that Pitchers mound: “The rest of those who have gone before us, cannot steady the unrest of those to follow.”