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I'll start the MLB subforum off. This is my post on Purple Row about the news that the Rockies have officially taken the interim tag off of Bill Schmidt as GM.
My Rockies indifference was overwhelming this year. For the first year since 1993, I found other things to do with my time this summer. Despite being in Denver on several occasions since April (from the Salt Lake City area), I did not attend a single game. Not only did I not attend a game, I didn’t even check my schedule to see if they were in town while I was in the area. I didn’t watch a full inning of a single game on television.
I checked box scores every day. I will admit to that.
I grew up going to Bears games, and then to Zephyrs games. I dreamed of mile high MLB. I literally cried in 1991 when the expansion announcement was made. I’ve taken my son out of school for every day playoff game in team history, as well as literally every meaningful September day game. I watched, in person, Jonathan Papelbon strike out Seth Smith to win game four of the World Series, and then seethed as drunk Red Sox fans treated Coors Field like Fenway west after the game. Through it all, I felt proud that my Rockies suffering would make the experience of finally winning even better – like I was establishing some kind of fan bona fides.
The day they traded Nolan finally broke me. I didn’t make a conscious decision that day. But I guess I made a subconscious one. Because spring training had been going for a couple weeks when I realized that I hadn’t really noticed. Opening day rolled around, and the day just got away from me – I checked the box score that evening to see what happened. And that was pretty much what happened every day for the rest of the summer.
I did notice when they fired Bridich. It was a hollow pleasure, but it was at least pleasure. I remember thinking, "I bet they end up just sticking with Bill Schmidt." But it was one of those things you say, but don’t really believe. Dick was predictable; but he was smart enough to know that patience and goodwill had finally run out. It was one thing to promote Schmidt as the interim GM – what other choice did they have? But fans would revolt if they made it permanent.
So, with all that said (sorry for the long rant – it was like therapy), I logged in today just to sort of figuratively shrug my shoulders and give a sardonic chuckle. What an unlucky break for all of us, to have this situation work out just like it has. I’m not talking about Bill Schmidt. I’m talking about Jerry McMorris’s issues, and things falling right so that the Monforts could step into the ownership void. And how perfect it is that not only are they just as fine as can be with mediocrity, they also have children that can take over, in the future (as well as clear aspirations to have them take over). As such, we pretty well have the next fifty years, or so, mapped out for us. We don’t have to waste any time with a tiny glimmer of hope of experiencing non-Monfort ownership during our lifetimes. Of all the teams we could fall in love with, we unknowingly chose a team that was just the perfect storm for perpetual mediocrity. Yay us! We’re not the pre-2016 Cubs. We would aspire to be that.
Sometime in the next fifty years, I will die. And when I do, the Rockies will be a team with a beautiful ballpark that is mostly full 81 days each year. And while most of the fans who attend those games will be aware of the fact that the home team has never even won so much as a division title, the beer and the sunset will be just enough to keep them from caring – like a warm, beautiful anesthetic. And somewhere down the first base line, there will be a Monfort who will give a satisfied sigh knowing that that ballpark in that city will continue to be like a money printing machine for them and their family. Then they’ll look to the seat at their right and give a warm smile to whatever child will be the next generation of Monfort who will continue the rich Rockies tradition.
I checked box scores every day. I will admit to that.
I grew up going to Bears games, and then to Zephyrs games. I dreamed of mile high MLB. I literally cried in 1991 when the expansion announcement was made. I’ve taken my son out of school for every day playoff game in team history, as well as literally every meaningful September day game. I watched, in person, Jonathan Papelbon strike out Seth Smith to win game four of the World Series, and then seethed as drunk Red Sox fans treated Coors Field like Fenway west after the game. Through it all, I felt proud that my Rockies suffering would make the experience of finally winning even better – like I was establishing some kind of fan bona fides.
The day they traded Nolan finally broke me. I didn’t make a conscious decision that day. But I guess I made a subconscious one. Because spring training had been going for a couple weeks when I realized that I hadn’t really noticed. Opening day rolled around, and the day just got away from me – I checked the box score that evening to see what happened. And that was pretty much what happened every day for the rest of the summer.
I did notice when they fired Bridich. It was a hollow pleasure, but it was at least pleasure. I remember thinking, "I bet they end up just sticking with Bill Schmidt." But it was one of those things you say, but don’t really believe. Dick was predictable; but he was smart enough to know that patience and goodwill had finally run out. It was one thing to promote Schmidt as the interim GM – what other choice did they have? But fans would revolt if they made it permanent.
So, with all that said (sorry for the long rant – it was like therapy), I logged in today just to sort of figuratively shrug my shoulders and give a sardonic chuckle. What an unlucky break for all of us, to have this situation work out just like it has. I’m not talking about Bill Schmidt. I’m talking about Jerry McMorris’s issues, and things falling right so that the Monforts could step into the ownership void. And how perfect it is that not only are they just as fine as can be with mediocrity, they also have children that can take over, in the future (as well as clear aspirations to have them take over). As such, we pretty well have the next fifty years, or so, mapped out for us. We don’t have to waste any time with a tiny glimmer of hope of experiencing non-Monfort ownership during our lifetimes. Of all the teams we could fall in love with, we unknowingly chose a team that was just the perfect storm for perpetual mediocrity. Yay us! We’re not the pre-2016 Cubs. We would aspire to be that.
Sometime in the next fifty years, I will die. And when I do, the Rockies will be a team with a beautiful ballpark that is mostly full 81 days each year. And while most of the fans who attend those games will be aware of the fact that the home team has never even won so much as a division title, the beer and the sunset will be just enough to keep them from caring – like a warm, beautiful anesthetic. And somewhere down the first base line, there will be a Monfort who will give a satisfied sigh knowing that that ballpark in that city will continue to be like a money printing machine for them and their family. Then they’ll look to the seat at their right and give a warm smile to whatever child will be the next generation of Monfort who will continue the rich Rockies tradition.
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