World Series defeats happen for a bunch of different reasons, bad bounces, errant throws, untimely slumps, questionable pitching changes, slippery, juiced baseballs, but they mostly happen because of a curse. A curse can be brought on by anything really, it could be linked to an animal or a former player or be triggered by an unwise decision to tempt the gods. For the Dodgers, the curse revolves around Rich Hill.
It’s an October game six and the Dodgers are in the World Series … A miracle happened, maybe one can happen again.
Baseball can be a little bit like church in that a lot of the meaning is in its rituals. That’s how most fans endure the 162-game season, why a team can be out of the pennant race in May and people will still show up—it’s the rituals, the smells, the sounds, the memories linked to Cracker Jack and the seventh-inning stretch. It feels like sitting on your grandpa’s lap. Everything’s gonna be alright. For nine innings you feel safe. When we’re small, there are some sports we sign-up for, but baseball is something you inherit.