The World Series is a beautiful game, one that captures the essence of the American dream.
Its championship season is the pinnacle of American sporting achievement, the ultimate triumph of the human spirit and, for some, the most thrilling spectacle in the world.
It’s a game that we can all love, one in which everyone has the same chance to win, but it’s also a game in which the underdog is treated with respect.
So when the New York Times asked me, with a shrug, whether I would be willing to sit in the stands and watch the Giants lose a World Series title game to the Cubs in a matter of minutes, I felt a little uncomfortable.
Not just because I’d spent months covering the sport, but also because I was a bit wary of the idea of being forced to endure a championship game that could only be watched from a cell phone, without my knowledge, without the use of headphones.
But now I was about to witness the greatest sporting event of my life in person.
And I was determined to make sure that I wouldn’t lose my cool and leave a sore spot.