Through Falling Tears

Picture this.

World Series. Game 7. Kauffmann Stadium. 40,000+ blue-clad crazies. Royal blue and white towels spinning. “LET’S GO ROYALS!” echoing.

It’s something out of a dream. Totally impossible, yet truly happening. A surreal scene. Come up with your own descriptive, words just don’t suffice.

This was actually the scene Wednesday night at 7:07 PM. Game 7 of the World Series wasn’t just happening, it was happening in Kansas City, at the K, the epicenter of all things Royals. The Giants were in town, appropriately symbolic given the chance to erase a 29-year history of playoff absence with ultimate victory.

A gigantic task.

A gigantic moment.

A gigantic opportunity.

Gigantic hopes.

Giants. Staring Kansas City and our Royal baseball brothers squarely in the face.

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The David vs. Goliath story is told time and time again. Pastors preach it. After all, it’s Biblical stuff. But it’s truly everywhere.

But mostly in sports. Especially sports movies.

Rocky.

Major League.

Miracle.

Rudy.

Hoosiers.

Spoiler: David wins.

It’s just right. Right?

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Fast-forward from our image above to the same equally electrified crowd. Roaring with 29 years of anticipation, hopes, and dreams.

Ninth inning. Giants lead, 3-2.

Hosmer. Butler. Gordon. The heart and soul of this Royal bunch we fans have loved as brothers and heroes.

And the Giant of Giants is on the mound. You know his name. He of whom we shall not speak. Joe Buck’s man-crush.

Our Davids. Their Goliath.

A walk-off win feels almost inevitable.

But our Davids fall. Goliath strikes down Hosmer, then Butler.

Only one stands.

Alex Gordon.

*CRACK!*

HOPE! CHAOS! PANDEMONIUM!

David suddenly stands safe at 3rd base, and an already deafening crowd roars louder.

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I’ve watched Hoosiers more times than I can count.

I know the ending by heart.

Tie game, 40-40. Hickory and South Bend, knotted up with time running out. Hickory steals a pass! Timeout!

Coach Dale sets up the play. “Get the ball into Merle on the picket fence. He’s gonna take the shot.”

The Huskers are silent.

Coach Dale: “What’s the matter with you guys? What’s the matter?!?”

Jimmy: “I’ll make it.”

And he does. Every time.

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The thing we love about sports is that sometimes David truly does slay Goliath.

The impossible happens, and the emotion that we feel when watching these movie moments play out in reality elicits exuberance and emotion that far exceeds anything Hollywood can manufacture.

As 40,000 Royals fans screamed with anticipation, watching our Davids face the Giants’ Goliath, millions of Royals fans truly found faith. We believed that our Royals were going to do the impossible. That our 29 year playoff drought would not just end with playoffs, but with a World Series title.

That our David vs. Goliath story would end in victory.

But life is not a movie.

Our hopes were crushed.

And oh did it hurt.

It STILL hurts.

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Being in attendance at Game 7 was truly a dream come true for me. My Royals. My team. A chance at a championship.

The ups and downs of the final game of the entire MLB season.

An incredible roller-coaster of emotion, ultimately ending in sadness.

But yet pride. Gratefulness. Appreciation for those “Boys in Blue” who gave not just me, but an entire city, perhaps even a good portion of an entire nation a month of joyful memories that will long outlive the disappointment of the harsh reality of our Hollywood ending unfulfilled.

So we lingered. We sat speechless. We shook our heads in disbelief.

And we made our way to where we belonged: behind our team’s dugout with a thousand of our closest Royal friends.

Royals nation. United in love for our team. Our Royals.

We did what we knew. We chanted and cheered.

“THANK YOU ROYALS!” *CLAP* *CLAP* *CLAP CLAP CLAP*
“THANK YOU ROYALS!” *CLAP* *CLAP* *CLAP CLAP CLAP*
“THANK YOU ROYALS!” *CLAP* *CLAP* *CLAP CLAP CLAP*

Through falling tears.