For some reason I've avoided posting here for a while. I'm not sure why. Have I found something better to do? Not really. Has anything changed in my life? Sort of, but things turned out being the same anyways. But I figure since my last post dealt with the Dodgers, so too will this post.

I went to my fifth Dodger game of the season today. A day game versus the Angels. They lost, 7-5. In a season that began so promising at 22-10, the Dodgers have dropped their last 6 games, getting swept by the Giants at PacBell and losing the first two at home against the Angels and their bandwagoning Orange County fans. Where were the Angels fans three years ago before they lucked into a World Series? Hmmm, I don't know, maybe because there weren't any! The media (and particularly the Angels management and fans) make a big deal about the Angels drawing 3 million fans last year to the park. Yeah, not impressive. The Dodgers have drawn 3 million fans for I don't know how many years in a row now. So enjoy your gloating now because when the Angels fall out of playoff contention (probably not this year, or the next) and return to their toils in mediocrity of the past 3 decades, we'll see where you most of you Angels "fans" are. Plus, Gagne rules.

Lately I've been thinking about this whole sports thing. I don't know if I've said this before, but somehow professional sports, for me, has become a sort of experiment in faith. I'm sure many writers before me have been quite verbose on the subject and I'm sure my own experiences aren't unique, but I believe I've discovered something on my own. Sports, and being a fan of particular teams, gives me something else to put my hope and faith into, sort of. Like when I attend a game, I believe that I make a difference. I know, somewhere deep inside that I probably don't, but then again, deep inside, I want to believe that I do. Like I'll say, if I don't watch two games in a row because I'm at work or I just miss them and the Dodgers lose, somehow its my fault. Sure, if I'd watched those two games the outcome likely wouldn't have changed, but we'll never know, will we.

I realized these rather apparent revelations while reading one of my favorite childhood books, In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson. Its good, go read it. It won't take you more than a day or two, even if you read slow. In the book, our hero Shirley also happens to be a Dodger fan:

"Every time Number 42 came to bat, she imagined herself in Jackie Robinson's shoes. Every time the pigeon-toed runner got on base, she was ready to help him steal home. And when Jackie's sixteen-game hitting streak ended, Shirley blamed herself. On that day, she had had to accompany her parents to greet Mr. Lee from Chungking. Obviously, it was her absence from the radio that made all the difference."

Obviously. So you see, by having baseball, I can somehow transfer my own hopes onto the shoulders of others and be superstitious while claiming not to be in other facets of life. Yes, quite hippocritical on my part but eh, whattya gonna do? Maybe thats why New York is a better city than Boston, the Yankees always win, making their people happier, while the Red Sox... well, yeah. As much as sports fans want to deny it, I think this faith in a team as a representative of one's own hopes is a big part of sports and I, for one, am glad to participate in the myth. Go Dodgers!