In less than two hours, the Angels and Rockies will begin the third game of their series in Denver and they have split the first two games, with the Rockies taking game one 7-4, and then losing game two 25-1. Yes, you read that right. 25-1... and those 25 runs were scored in just four innings.
If you were looking for some logic here, good luck. The run totals in the two games favor the Angels 29-8, yet each team has earned one win. Who knows what will happen this afternoon? It might be another blow out, or a slug fest, or a tight pitchers' dual (I wouldn't bet heavily on that last one).
I tuned into last night's laugher just as the third inning wrapped up and was astonished to find that LA had scored 13 runs just that inning. I was drawn to the TV much like we find it difficult to turn away from natural disasters or car accidents, and I was rewarded with an 8-run fourth inning by the Angels. At that point, the entire game had become a joke. Announcers were at a loss. The sell-out crowd had to settle for a spectacular sunset and another Rocky Dog. I felt embarrassment for the home team, though I understand that the Rockies have about 10 potential starters on injured reserve (or lost for the season).
But here's the thing. Today the 25 runs from last night don't carry over. The loss was so lopsided that no one on either team could claim much enjoyment. Is there a "thrill of victory" when the game should have been stopped by a mercy rule?
Unlike "real life," most sports don't carry much residual power or pain or joy or grief. The new contest begins all even, and even the worst team in the league often triumphs, at least occasionally, over the best. That is one attraction of sports for me. Yes, the worst teams prove their inadequacy over time, but you need a longer season or series to see the trends emerge.
The disaster at Coors Field yesterday is weirdly tied to my thoughts on the tornado that swept through Highlands Ranch last Thursday, damaging lots of trees and buildings. It passed within a couple hundred yards of our house, according to the storm track map.
But Kathleen and I were in Seattle, enjoying sunny and mild weather while the storms ravaged the Centennial State. We learned of the tornado the way we tend to learn about all breaking news: on Facebook and other social media. I called our neighbor and she reported no significant damage, though she did say that she was frightened by the wind and hail and pouring rain. She's a Nebraskan, so she has seen some storms (as have we), but she said that was as scared as she could remember.
We arrived home yesterday, just three days after the tornado, and couldn't see much evidence of the destruction that some of our neighbors in our little corner of Colorado had endured. A few tree limbs lay on the parking and there were workers buzzing around some roofs about half a mile from us. Our roses and peonies took a hit, but I assume they will recover quickly.
Today the sun is shining and there isn't a cloud in the sky.
That same sun will be shining on Coors Field this afternoon. The pride of the Rockies took a hit yesterday, but they will take the field again. There is a decent chance they will win the game.
And life goes on, despite the occasional threats, disasters, and mishaps.
Postscript: Not all that surprising, but the Rockies did take the third game of the series, 4-3. A great reminder that baseball, like life in many ways, is more a marathon than a sprint.
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