During Wednesday’s bat-poo crazy playoff baseball game between the Toronto Blues and Texas Rangers, I discovered a cure for those afflicted with frequent bouts of acting like a complete jackass during sporting events.
The cure is other people’s children. Nothing seems to cool down a hothead in a pressure-packed situation like having random neighbourhood children milling about with their impressionable eyes seeing all, virgin ears hearing all, and boogery noses smelling nothing.
Like any good citizen, I skipped out of work early on Wednesday to catch the biggest Blue Jays game since the Kelly Gruber era. And all was going basically according to plan through the first six innings as the Jays and Rangers played good, hard, back-and-forth baseball.
Then, just as the seventh inning began, my wife arrived home with my own son and three other friends in tow so that there were now a total of five children under the age of nine milling about our living room during this do-or-die game.
That’s when things got really weird. I’m going to recap a few of the craziest things that happened in that wild inning, along with descriptions of how I would have reacted on my own compared with how I actually acted with children strewn all about.
Note that all these children go to French school so they were conversing only in French, a language I barely understand, and – I am not making this part up – they were passing around an accordion throughout the entire inning. Here’s how it went down:
Top of the 7th, score tied 2-2, none out: Texas youngster Rougned Odor, who had been killing the Jays all series, ripped a single.
What I wanted to do: Yell “Forget that guy!” Except using another word that starts with the same letter as “forget.”
What I did: Asked a cute little girl how her day at school went.
Still tied 2-2, Toronto’s Josh Donaldson makes an amazing barehand catch and throws out one of the fastest runners in the game.
What I wanted to do: Yell “That’s your M-forking-V-P right there! Wooooo!” Except using another word that starts with the same letter as “forking.”
What I did: Showed a wee gaffer some extra buttons on the accordion. Très bien!
Toronto catcher Russell Martin tries to throw the ball back to the pitcher but it hits Shin-Soo Choo’s bat and rolls away harmlessly while Odor scampers home to potentially score the go-ahead run. Meanwhile the umpire waves his hands in the air and orders Odor back to third base. It’s easily one of the weirdest baseball plays I’ve ever seen and it’s about to potentially cost the Blue Jays a trip to the League Championship Series.
What I wanted to do: Yell three words: “What. The. Cluck!?” Except using another word that rhymes with cluck.
What I did: Stared straight ahead with a fake smile while my sons calmly and adorably played catch together without whipping the ball at each other’s faces.
Meanwhile on the field the umpires confer and change their call, awarding Odor home plate and giving Texas a 3-2 lead.
What I wanted to do: Throw the TV remote at the TV screen. Yell “Duuuuuucckkk!” Except – well, you know.
What I did: Kept staring straight ahead, completely ignoring my younger son getting beaned square in the face over and over by errant throws from his brother. And by errant throws I mean “errant” throws.
For the next 13 minutes Toronto manager John Gibbons argues the call with the umpires, one of whom has a wad of chewing tobacco stuffed into his cheek that is literally the size of a baseball.
What I wanted to do: “Nice call, buddy. Maybe you’ll get mouth cancer really soon. That would be … sad.”
What I did: Silently stewed.
After the Texas run is confirmed the Toronto fans lose their minds, throwing insults at the umpires and garbage onto the field. A beer can thrown from the upper deck appears to hit a baby in the head. A mother is crying and shielding her child.
What I wanted to do: Yell “Forget you people of Toronto! You don’t deserve this team!” Except using a different word than forget. Never forget.
What I did: Read a book called Cars, Trucks, Planes and Trains to my son. You’ll never guess what that story is about.
The game finally restarts and Choo strikes out, ending the inning. Now in the bottom of the seventh, the Rangers – a professional baseball team – commit three straight errors to load the bases.
What I wanted to do: Jump on the couch! Jump on the bed!! Find our atlas, open to the North America page, jump on Texas!!!
What I did: Excited jogging in place.
With one out, Donaldson hits a weird bloop that floats just past Odor, dropping for a single to score the tying run.
What I wanted to do: Scream “Wooooooooooooo! Buck yeah!” Except using a more expensive word than buck.
What I did: Pragmatic “Woo.”
With the score tied 3-3, two on and two out, Jose Bautista comes up to bat. Massive home run. Massive-er bat flip.
What I wanted to do: Couch flip. Dance. Buy a cannon, shoot it at the sun.
What I did do: Grab my boys. Dance.
Then the two teams almost got into a brawl, then Toronto made their third out, then they almost got into another brawl. At this point, the kids finally stopped playing the accordion and started reacting to what was on TV. I looked up to see what fascinated them so much: the Blue Jays mascot was dancing on the screen.
Two relatively uneventful innings later the Jays closed out one of the wildest games ever played.
I danced some more, and surveyed the scene.
With all those children around I didn’t get to unleash my deepest, darkest sports fan beast. But I didn’t kick a hole in the wall either.
My TV screen; the innocence of those beautiful children; my atlas; the hopes and dreams of the Texas Rangers: only one of those things was shattered.
I’ll celebrate that. On to the Championships! Cue the accordion!
Andy Prest is the sports editor for the North Shore News and writes a biweekly humour/lifestyle column. He can be reached via email at [email protected].
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