It’s a good thing this column is typed instead of spoken.
My vocal cords feel like sandpaper. When George Springer blasted that dinger on Monday night, I shrieked at a decibel that sent the cats running for cover: YEEEAAAHHH! OOOZZZ! WOOOOYYYY!
They were the same caveman sounds I made a decade ago when José Bautista smoked a three-run, go-ahead moon shot against Texas that he flexed with a bat flip for the ages.
And now, once again, Jays fans are flipping out with joy.
For the first time in 32 years, we are returning to the World Series. It’s a different world this series. In 1993, Kim Campbell was prime minister during the playoffs, though not much longer. There was a debate about NAFTA. Nelson Mandela won the Nobel Peace Prize the day before the Jays squared off against Philadelphia in Game 1 at the SkyDome.
But the giddy mood in the city was the same.
About an hour before first pitch on Monday, I strolled toward the Danforth to drop off a package with Purolator. And, no, I wasn’t sending a fruitcake laced with Lunesta to Shohei Ohtani.
Everyone I passed was wearing a Jays shirt or cap. It felt like a school uniform. It felt like a badge of honour. It felt like great expectations.
These fans were presumably en route to a pub to watch Game 7 with friends.
Soccer is called the beautiful game. October baseball is gorgeous. The Fall Classic is the drawbridge between the boys of summer and Old Man Winter. As the leaves morph into autumnal shades, this is it: an epic showdown between the two best teams in Major League Baseball.
But more than anything, the World Series is a shared experience.
Appointment television is mostly gone in this fragmented streaming and on-demand world. We live in silos. Culture is a 24-hour buffet we gorge at different times. I know people who are just starting “Stranger Things.” I know people who still don’t want any Hitchcock spoilers in case they ever get around to “Psycho,” which surprisingly was not about umpire Doug Eddings.
If you care about the World Series, you will tune in at 8 p.m. on Friday. You will watch in real time with everyone else.
And you will capture the same flashbulb memories. We underestimate how much was lost when the connective tissue of our monoculture vapourized.
I’ve felt like a missionary since June. I’ve been proselytizing to family and friends, encouraging them to pay attention to the 2025 Toronto Blue Jays. Cousins who live in Ohio and New Jersey now cheer for our team, even if they don’t know a sacrifice fly from a sacrificial lamb. Friends in Ottawa who didn’t watch a regular season game are emotionally invested in this post-season run. These are people who work in think tanks and belong to book clubs.
And why not? This Jays team is special. I pitched in little league. Our team had all kinds of chemistry problems — and we were kids. This team is blessed with an alchemy that defies sabermetrics. When the season started, bookies were practically giving away free Disney cruises to anyone dumb enough to bet on the Jays making it to the World Series.
But here we are. Even the gang on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” was singing Blue Jay praises on Tuesday morning. Normally, the baseball chatter on that show is limited to the Yankees or Red Sox. This Jays team is now impossible to ignore.
Joe Scarborough sounded like he might apply for Canadian citizenship.
This Jays team is a dazzling shared experience in a city starving for good news.
I got choked up on Monday night watching Vladimir Guerrero Jr. get choked up after the Jays eliminated Seattle. He had this childlike look in his eyes, one they all have. It’s this weird mix of cosmic gratitude and killer instinct.
They love the game. They love one another. And they love their fans.
A couple of months into the season, this team caught fire like a tree house doused with cooking oil. Then game after comeback game, the players took turns blowing fresh oxygen into the blaze with a new hero every nine innings.
Now you can see the blue smoke from space.
Are these beloved upstarts in tough against Los Angeles? Yes. But this team is more resilient than spider silk. The experts didn’t like their chances against Aaron Judge and the Yankees. The experts were performing last rites after they dropped the first two at home against Cal Raleigh and the Mariners.
But here we are.
So if you are hopping on the bandwagon this week, welcome aboard! This team is worth your time. Enjoy the shared experience of a World Series. High-five passersby in Jays shirts. Put a flag on your car. Adopt a pet and name it Vladdy.
The monoculture is back and we are riding shotgun with a team of destiny.
