I'm tired of hearing how bad the Rockies are this year.
Because they were also bad last year.
And the year before that.
So their badness is old news, even when it reaches historic heights, as it did a few nights ago, when they lost to the San Diego Padres 21-0. There were 38,000 people at Coors Field that night. Years from now each of them will be able to say: I was there! Until the 5th inning, because hey, Rockies fans are not stupid.
I feel their pain.
I moved to Chicago in 1985. My apartment was a short walk from Wrigley Field, so the Cubs鈥� stink pervaded my neighborhood. Or maybe it was dead fish in Lake Michigan?
At that point the lovable losers were 87 years into their World Series funk鈥攁 streak that would continue another 28 years while I watched and suffered. Sweet release finally came on a rainy night in Cleveland, in 2016. The final out of the Cubs鈥� first World Series win since 1908 was registered as third baseman Kris Bryant, while slipping on wet turf, managed to hit the open glove of first baseman Anthony Rizzo. Cubs win! My ordeal of loss and disappointment was over.
That happens, you know. As sure as day follows the dark night of the soul.
The Rockies signed Kris Bryant in 2022, paying $182 million dollars for the privilege. They have lost 334 games since Bryant鈥檚 arrival, but those losses aren鈥檛 all his fault. He has been on the injured list for 170 of his Rockies games鈥攚hiffing on a little more than 14% of his contract, or $26 million. The mighty Bryant has struck out.
It gives me no pleasure to say that.
When Kris Bryant鈥檚 back hurts, my back hurts, because he saw me through my own existential crisis of fandom. When I lived in Wrigleyville, I became the Cubs in some sense. Their failure was my failure. And then Kris redeemed me.
All that is a symptom of my own mental illness, of course. I am not the Cubs. Nor am I Nathan Mackinnon, a prolific center for the Colorado Avalanche. But when the Avs coughed up their 2-0 lead in a game seven against the Dallas Stars, their pursuit of Lord Stanley鈥檚 Cup ended. In puck-related despair, I emailed my wise friend Diamond-Michael Scott, author of a Substack called the Chocolate Taoist.
I asked him: What would the Tao te Ching have to say about my superfandom?
He set me straight with this quote: 鈥淲hen you are content to be simply yourself and don鈥檛 compare or compete, everybody will respect you.鈥� Good news! The Rockies gave up comparing and competing a long time ago! Diamond-Michael also brought up the concept of Wu Wei: there鈥檚 power in not forcing things, he told me, in flowing with the moment rather than raging against it.
So now I鈥檓 trying on my new identity as a Zen fan. Swapping home runs for ommmmmmm runs, and box scores for the Bhavagad Gita, which counsels: 鈥淵ou have the right to the action, but not to the fruits of the action.鈥� That is, you may watch, but not covet any result, other than the being present for OT with monk-like calm.
The Nuggets MVP Nikola Joki膰 does that with ease. He鈥檒l hit a game-winning buzzer beater from half court, then stand there as impassive as a lamppost, while his teammates mob him. He鈥檚 basketball鈥檚 Bodhisattva, defined as 鈥渁 person who is able to reach nirvana but delays doing so out of compassion in order to save suffering beings.鈥�
The Rockies should sign a Bodhisattva, with their vast trove of high draft picks
Until they do, I recommend taking the long view. When you go to Coors Field, follow the signs for the upper deck. The field is barely visible from up there!
After the Nuggets were eliminated from the NBA playoffs, Nikola Joki膰 was asked what he鈥檇 do next. No, not go to Disneyland. He said, 鈥淭he next few days are going to be a lot of beer.鈥�
That鈥榮 a good strategy for the Rockies, as well. Head up to the Coors Light Silver Bullet Bar in the upper deck, and pound some anesthesia. It鈥檒l be next year, and the year after that, before you know it.
