Jays fans all over have continued basking in the glow of the team’s first division championship in 22 years – they haven’t made the postseason since 1993 donchyaknow! – celebrating today through a strange dayish game after yesterday’s awesomeness.
We’re going to the playoffs people!
It’s been a longtime for Jays fans. Those who were old enough to tie their shoes the last time Toronto had October baseball may be able to remember how to postseason, but there’s also a good chance that two-plus decades in the baseball wilderness has sapped them of that experience and knowledge.
For the rest of us, we’ve never really postseasoned before. Sure, I was alive the last time and from what I remember it was awesome. If I recall correctly I also thought my stuffed rabbit was pretty awesome at that point too.
Of course, I’ve watched postseason baseball for years. But I watched it as a baseball fan, as someone who just wanted to watch fantastic competition. You always adopt a team, but they’re never truly your team.
Now, our horse is in it.
So, what the hell do we do now? To be honest, I kind of feel like that person who’s never had to speak publicly suddenly being thrust in front of a room full of people and asked to give a speech. What the hell should I be doing with my hands?!?!??
How do you act? How do you watch? For the fans who have enough luck and enough money to make it to a game (note: not me by a long shot), how do you cheer, and when do you you?
It’s a brave new world we’re in, as Jays fans. The last time Toronto was in the postseason there were no blogs and no Twitter. So how do we Tweet in the postseason?
It’s all very confusing.
They say athletes are always taught to treat it like another game. I’m sure that’s how the Jays will be approaching next Thursday – just another game. At least, they’ll treat it like any other game as best they can.
I guess that’s what I’ll do to. Come next Thursday I’ll crack a beer, turn on the TV and sit back in my recliner. Then I’ll watch just another baseball game.
I might also squeal like an eight-year-old kid on Christmas day.