If you know me at all, you know that I am a die-hard fan of the Kansas City Chiefs and the NFL. Many have probably blocked my Facebook posts from appearing in their news-feed because of my non-stop jibber-jabber on NFL Sundays. The Chiefs will always be my team, but in the 24 years that I have been a fan, they have never brought me tears of joy, even their only two playoff victories during my lifetime and the famous 1994 Monday Night Football classic in Denver. Last night, the scene at Kaufmann stadium got me a little choked up. I have tried for the last month to not invest myself emotionally in this team. I've gone all "Han Solo" with my close friends and family, trying to play it off that I don't really care, but dad-gum-it, I do.
Long before I was a Chiefs fan, my grandmother would take me and my family to Royals games. As a young child, the allure was not so much the baseball as much as it was the cool fountains beyond the outfield walls, the peanuts, hotdogs, cotton candy, and cokes. She kept the books for a local carpenter's union, which is to say she ran the place, so she got a hold of good seats to the game. Often they were in the lower deck close enough to the middle that it was behind the screen. (I remember this because I remember being chastised for complaining about it.)
Just as in this year, the 1985 Royals hosted the first two games, and then proceeded to get dominated in games in St. Louis such that it looked like game 7 was very unlikely. My grandmother shrewdly managed to get 2 game 7 tickets from one of the union guys when the Royals' fate looked dire. When the Royals won game 6 in improbably (and controversial) fashion, she had a hard decision to make. Of the grandchildren who lived in Kansas City at the time, I was the oldest, so as hard as it was, she chose me--and I blew it.
Unlike the nail-biter the prior night, the Royals trounced the Cards in Game 7. The game was never in doubt. (Incidentally, the Royals scored 11 runs on that night, and the Chiefs lost a game earlier that day scoring only 10 points against the Broncos.) I don't know if it was all the junk food, or the screaming, or the crowd noise, or what, but around the 7th inning, I was sick to my stomach and had a bad headache. I told my grandmother that I wasn't feeling well and that I wanted to go. She, just like any reasonable person in the moment who realized the rarity of it all, tried to convince me to gut it out, but I insisted. To this day, I don't like to talk about it because of how embarrassing it is. Granted, at the time I was a child and didn't appreciate the preciousness of the moment, and I suppose it is unrealistic for me to expect 9 year old PJ to have gotten it. Even still, I have looked back on that night with some degree of shame, not so much about getting myself sick from yelling too much and eating too much crap, but not appreciating how special it was.
I want this team to win really badly. I want it so badly for my younger brother who got the short end of the stick that night in 1985 when I was chosen to go to the game. He has faithfully cheered on the Royals through thick and thin. In some strange way, I feel like a win tonight would be redemption for my forgivable youthful ignorance.
Regardless of how tonight's game ends up on the scoreboard, these 2014 Royals, in the brief 4 weeks that I have been paying attention to them, have inspired me to think differently about October 27, 1985. Seeing the spunk of this team and the crowd just makes me emotional. It makes me tear up because I never thought I would see this again. That chilly October night was special, but it wasn't so much because of the baseball game. It was special because I was there with my grandma, the fountains, the peanuts, the hotdogs, the cotton candy, and 40,000 other people who will have a memory that lasts a lifetime. To all those Royals fans out there, enjoy this moment. Soak it all in, win or loss. Who knows when it will come again. For some like my Grandmother, this may be the last time. Go Royals.
1985 World Series Tickets
Grandma and the whole family
