And yet here we are.
I often joked before this series began that I was predicting not a Chicago or Cleveland victory, but rather an apocalyptic event. After all, these are not teams that win the World Series. These are teams that raise their fans' hopes only to dash them incomprehensibly. These are the teams of a 100-win Indians team in a 144-game season coming up short against a historic rotation, or of a 3-1 NLCS lead against an upstart Marlins team vaporizing into thin air. These are the teams of Jose Mesa's blown save and Alex Gonzalez's booted ground ball (because, let's be frank, Steve Bartman was not really at fault).
These are two teams that only win the World Series if it happens on the big screen, but Henry Rowengartner and Pedro Cerrano aren't walking through that door. And Rick Vaughn definitely isn't walking through that door. Or at least not the bullpen doors.
FEAR NOT,— Charlie Sheen (@charliesheen) November 2, 2016
My bag is packed,
and help is on the way!!
Simply put, the reason we have reached Game 7 is because, somehow, we have two World Series participants that are fated never to win a title, and with no third option, the universe is stretching this thing out as long as possible until it discovers an exit strategy. That doesn't simply mean tonight's game was guaranteed to exist, it means that we may be in for 30 innings of baseball until the cosmos have sorted everything out.