Trying to avoid the torrent of anxiety that is 2020, I turned to sport—be it in their distended (basketball and hockey) or truncated (baseball) forms.
Given that the local franchises (at least depending on your MLB franchise-orientation) have been as effective at reducing anxiety as caffeine, sports has mostly been ineffective.
The Blackhawks briefly derailed the overriding reality that the Cup window is closed by winning the qualifying round against the rejuvenated Edmonton Oilers. But the subsequent loss to Las Vegas Golden Knights reminded us that, yeah, the window is definitely closed.
Letting goaltender Corey Crawford go is the proof.
The Bulls continued to mismatch coaches with their talented, young roster, ending the shortened season with a dismal 22 and 43 record. But the recent dismissals of President John Paxson, General Manager Gar Forman and hapless coach Jim Boylen have given fans hope.
With the signing of new coach Billy Donovan and another lottery pick in the upcoming draft, there is finally more light than darkness.
The Cubs? Long story short—the less said the better.
Having recovered their lovable loser status, their mystifying ineptness regarding how to best employ a baseball bat in an actual baseball game didn't prohibit them from claiming another divisional title and with it, home field advantage.
But as they so expertly do, the Cubs turned advantage into disadvantage since they actually hit worse at home (.213) than they did on the road (.226). No matter. Two consecutive losses to the mighty Florida Marlins in the opening round of the playoffs put Cub fans out of their misery with due dispatch.
And the one-time Super Bowl-hopeful Chicago Bears?
The team has removed a negative (QB Mitch Trubisky) but done virtually nothing to shore-up a weak offensive line. TE Jimmy Graham has at least given the Bears production at the position; something they didn't enjoy last year.
But with an NFL-strength schedule the rest of the way and no running game to speak of, the 4 – 1 Bears will be hard-pressed to sustain their early success—accomplished against pro football's doormats.
On a national scale, things were brighter.
Even after losing Kawhi Leonard and Danny Green to southern California in free-agency, the indefatigable Toronto Raptors clawed their way to the second-seed in the Eastern Conference playoffs by virtue of their 53 and 19 record.
It took a five-point loss to the Boston Celtics in game-seven of the Eastern Conference semis to stop them. But what a ride!
And what a team.
Basketball continued to entertain via the Denver Nuggets.
A popular pick to make the Finals, the Nuggets evinced a disquieting ability to fall-out of games early before mounting second-half comebacks. It was enough to carry them through two seven-game series versus the Utah Jazz and Los Angeles Clippers and into the Western Conference Finals.
But it took the steadier and more-experienced Los Angeles Lakers just five games to defeat them, meaning the Nuggets still have miles to go before they pour champagne on each other.
But it was a ball watching them.
Which brings me to baseball.
As with the NHL and NBA, credit must be given to MLB for managing a very complicated dynamic with stellar results. It wasn't perfect, but excepting the circumstances that allowed Donald J. Trump to appoint three Supreme Court justices within a single term, what in 2020 was?
But here we are on the eve of another World Series.
My fandom of baseball is more deeply-rooted than any of the remaining “Big Three” sports. That being the case, there are deeply-rooted likes and dislikes. For example, I love the Cubs. I hate the New York Yankees.
Translated, it was a delight watching the Tampa Bay Rays bounce the Yankees out of the American League Divisional series. It occurred to me during that series the Rays might be the best franchise in baseball.
How many other teams have reliably remained so competitive? Has a farm system that has so reliably produced big-league talent? Made innovation routine? And even more remarkably, has accomplished this in a small market with skeletal fan support?
And with a moldy, dank cavern of a stadium that is the antithesis of 'revenue stream'?
By eliminating the Yankees and on the cusp of advancing to the World Series, the Rays have upended exactly half of MLB's dream. That the darlings of major league baseball—the mass-market Yankees and the mass-market Los Angeles Dodgers—assume their rightful places in baseball's annual showcase for a TV ratings extravaganza.
But that's how the Rays seem to do things.
If the medium is the message, is this when we'll start watching?
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