Dodger-hating

Ah. I can't help it. There are just certain sports franchises I love to hate. The Los Angeles Lakers. The San Francisco 49ers. And the New York Yankees—to name three.

Then there are the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Yeah, I'm still holding a grudge from the 2008 play-offs, where the Cubs inexplicably lost two straight at home to a team with a 36 - 45 road record and just 84 wins overall. The Cubs never recovered, scoring just six runs in the series before going down 3 – 1 in game number three in L.A.

But there's more to it than that. It's their preening. Their presumptive arrogance by virtue of being the city's favored baseball team.

I was praying for a Dodgers-free World Series, even if watching them stumble on baseball's biggest stage has its benefits. But like Clayton Kershaw, the post-season seems to be the Atlanta Braves' kryptonite.

(I should note that 2020 did mark a breakthrough of sorts for the Braves, who won a post-season series for the first time since 2001 after nine straight first-round exits, and ten in eleven visits.)

Ratcheting up my Dodger-contempt is the fawning adoration on the part of our star-struck media conglomerates.

Sunday night, I thought the Fox network crew was going to bust out of the press box and plant wet kisses all over Cody Bellinger after his seventh-inning home run. And if the first dozen replays weren't enough, the pretty boy shot of Bellinger trying to look like a male centerfold was.

Jesus.

Enough!

But I'm happy to acknowledge the Dodgers' supremacy in one area—cute first names. Let's see, we have a Cody, a Kenley, a Mookie, a Corey and a Clayton. I mean, is this a baseball team or a casting call for a reconstituted version of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch?

Christ!

While Major League Baseball weeps with relief that at least one major-market team made it to the World Series, I'm all-in on the team they didn't want.

This team is the outsider that Sir Lies A Lot claims himself to be. The third-lowest payroll in the game, a half-interested fan base and a Q-rating that could barely fire the bulb in your kitchen's night light.

Like the candidates in this year's presidential election, the contrast between the Tampa Bay Rays and the Los Angeles Dodgers couldn't be more vivid. Like Paul Sullivan wrote in this morning's Tribune, this is Team Hollywood versus Team Walmart.

I love the movies, but I'm rooting for Tampa Bay all the way. Even if they weren't playing the #$!%@* Dodgers.

Relief Sought. Relief Found.

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?

Sports in the Twenty-first Century

Man. What a decade. Ever think you’d live long-enough to see the New Jersey Nets and the Cleveland Cavaliers in the NBA Finals? Or the Tampa Bay Rays in the World Series?

How about the Arizona Cardinals in the Super Bowl?

Are the Tampa Bay Buccaneers not only going to a Super Bowl but actually winning one a vision not even binge-drinking could inspire? Imagine the Boston Red Sox and Chicago White Sox finally ending their championship droughts—in consecutive years!

Okay. Very funny. When does the alarm clock go off?

Sure, the usual suspects made plenty of appearances; the L.A. Lakers won four titles, the New York Yankees, rejuvenated Detroit Red Wings and Pittsburgh Steelers two each. The San Antonio Spurs at last converted all those winning seasons into a trio of trophies. And the Boston Celtics recovered from their post-Bird stupor long-enough to snatch one.

But that’s not what this decade is about.

It’s about the Florida Marlins winning another Series just six years after their ’97 title. It’s about the Philadelphia Phillies winning only their second title in 108 years. And it’s about the fresh-out-of diapers Arizona Diamondbacks denying the fabled Yankees a World Series fourpeat by scoring two ninth-inning runs in the seventh game of the 2001 classic—off of Mariano Rivera no less.

It's about the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim—a hockey team named after a Disney movie—going to the Stanley Cup twice (and winning once). It’s about the Anaheim Angels winning the 2002 World Series against the San Francisco Giants and big, bad Barry Bonds. Can anyone say Anaheim—Suburb of Champions?

When the Tampa Bay Lightning (What? Tampa Bay again?) and Carolina Hurricanes win successive Stanley Cups, and the New England Patriots become the dominant team in the NFL, you just know someone spiked the punch.

But not everyone tried it.

The Los Angeles Clippers still reside at the bottom of the NBA. The Cleveland Indians haven’t won a Series since 1948. The Sacramento Kings haven’t put their fingerprints on a championship since 1951, when they played in Rochester, N.Y. and were called the Royals.

And the Stanley Cup remains a rumor in—of all places—Toronto, where the Maple Leafs haven’t bothered since 1967.

And then there’s the Detroit Lions. Once upon a time, the Lions were the cream of professional football, playing for four NFL championships between 1952 and 1957 and winning three.

But then, the Titanic used to float.

That leaves the hapless Chicago Cubs. One-hundred years and counting. A Las Vegas bookie calculated the odds at a million-to-one, which actually means the Cubs have won the lottery. Only no one's calling and claiming to be related.

When homes wired for electricity represented cutting-edge technology the last time you won a championship, you're overdue.

When eleven of baseball's fourteen expansion franchises have seen World Series action since you did, you're overdue.

And when a football team quarterbacked by Rex Grossman hits the Super Bowl before you're awarded World Series visitation rights, you need to call your OB.

Now.

Who knows. Maybe the next decade will be the one. But like my math teacher once advised me about a malfunctioning calculator—don’t count on it.