[Baltimore Sun] Dan Rodricks: Baltimore’s long wait for another World Series continues | STAFF COMMENTARY
Read Time:4 Minute, 34 Second
And so the vigil beginneth again, this time on the first day of October 2024 Anno Domini, with the rain clearing away in the afternoon and Orioles fans of varied shapes and sizes making the pilgrimage to Camden Yards in their orange-and-black vestments.
They came by the thousands, waving orange towels, screaming, chanting, cheering wildly at anything good that happened for the home team. They hoped to see the Orioles beat the Royals in the first game of a wild-card series. They came to keep watch and hold out hope. They came to continue the vigil.
What vigil?
The World Series vigil, the one that started minutes after the last Orioles victory parade in downtown Baltimore, way back in the days before the Internet, before cell phones, before Donald Trump’s first failed casino.
If you’re of a certain age — born, say, in the mid-1980s or after — you might not be aware of such a vigil. You have no experience with Baltimore in a World Series. In fact, the concept might seem preposterous to you, even with the successes of the Buck Showalter years and the optimism born of the rebuilt team on the field today. So, while there’s hope that one fine day the Orioles will reach the World Series — some people even dare to discuss it out loud — you don’t spend a lot of time thinking about it.
Hey, if it happens, it happens, right?
But, from Hagerstown to Bivalve, Cockeysville to Crownsville, and all through the Patapsco Drainage Basin, there are Orioles fans who’ve had a taste. We remember the last time the Birds went all the way in the postseason. We remember how glorious it was. Rick Dempsey was the MVP! Cal made the final out! We are legion, and we want it to happen again. So, we have held a de facto vigil all these years.
How many years?
There have been 41 since the Orioles made it to a World Series.
Let’s contemplate that for one mildly morbid minute: A franchise that was in six world championships within 18 seasons (1966 to 1983) has not made it to the big show once in the last two score and one.
To jog the memories of my fellow Baltimoreans, some historical perspective:
In 1983, there was still a Soviet Union.
Ronald Reagan was still in his first term as president, and the Reagan administration was still trying to count ketchup as a vegetable on school lunch menus.
In Baltimore, Billy Murphy challenged Mayor William Donald Schaefer for reelection, and, during a live televised debate on WBAL-TV, an eccentric candidate named Monroe Cornish repeatedly called Schaefer’s statements “a bunch of junk.”
A fine horse named Deputed Testamony won the Preakness, and that was a bigger deal than usual because the horse was Maryland-bred and trained by Bill Boniface of Harford County.
Things were not so swell with the city’s NFL team, owned by the ruddy-faced Robert Irsay. (Ruddy-faced is a newspaper euphemism for a reddish complexion and not from vigorous exercise.) The Colts were winless in 1982, and in 1983 they drafted John Elway to be their quarterback. But Elway refused to sign a contract, and the rest of that story is too sad to go into. Frankly, I’m sorry I brought it up.
Anyway, 41 years is a long time ago. Children born that year are now slipping into middle age and dad jeans. Many of them have children of their own — except for the childless cat ladies among them.
It could be worse.
Some teams in this postseason have never won a World Series — the Brewers and the Padres. Cleveland’s last title was in 1948. And the Tigers are right there with the Orioles; their last championship was in 1984. The Mets beat the Red Sox in a memorable series in 1986, but they’ve not reached baseball heaven since.
So, there are plenty of baseball fans across the land on World Series vigil, their hopes for such a development waxing and waning over time and the progress of each season.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Some might consider it a form of self-flagellation.
I don’t. I think you just gotta have hope, no matter what.
Plus, at least we’re getting some October baseball again — two seasons in a row. As the elevator operator at Camden Yards said Tuesday: “Other cities, their baseball’s over. We’re still here.”
But, of course, way down here, at the end of my ruminations, I will now mention — in case you missed it — that the Orioles dropped the first game, 1-0, to the Royals. A tough loss. A big disappointment for the pilgrims.
There was promise in the third inning when Cedric Mullins started things with a double to right field. But, keeping with a bad habit the Orioles established in the second half of the season, they left Mullins stranded on second base. James McCann struck out, his bat flying toward the Kansas City dugout. Gunnar Henderson grounded out to first. Then Jordan Westburg gave everyone a thrill with a long drive to left that landed in a Royals’ glove in front of the big, blue-and-white Lake Erie College of Osteopathic Medicine sign.
The baseball gods giveth, and they taketh away. In Baltimore, our long vigil continueth, and we hopeth for the besteth.
Happy
0 %
Sad
0 %
Excited
0 %
Sleepy
0 %
Angry
0 %
Surprise
0 %
0
0