Last night sunk me and most Dodgers fans on to game 6

The Los Angeles Dodgers lost yesterday and they now face elimination in game 6 tomorrow on Halloween at ancient Dodgers Stadium.

While the ghouls and goblins will be out in full force- the spirits of the Dodgers fans who last witnessed a championship 29 years ago will be stirring from the nearby cemeteries.

Dodgers fans worldwide won’t be able to breathe until the Dodgers tie the series, and then what.

For some Dodgers fans, winning the game means more collective torture for all fans.

Astros fans truly don’t get this aspect of torture because they became a franchise in the 1960s and didn’t go to the series until 2004 when Jeff Kent and the Killer B’s- Berkman, Biggio, and Bagwell owned the fans hearts and fell to the White Sox in 4 games-with the roof open as October chills filled the air and cut off the home run power from the home team.

This series has been different. While the stench of a recent hurricane-Harvey lingered outside, the Astros found a way to go 18-2 at Minute Maid Park and stall the Dodgers postseason run at 10-5.

To win, the Astros turn to Dustin Verlander who wishes to do what much maligned Clayton Kershaw could not by giving up 6 runs after taking the mound with a 4-0 lead.

So why do I sink into my couch today with my workout hoodie pulled over my eyes?

Because of this, the Dodgers found every conceivable way to sink themselves into oblivion for 29 years as the Giants, Cardinals, and Marlins found ways to win a World Series multiple times.

The Dodgers, my boyhood team finally filled my former boyhood veins with hope that they would finally achieve the impossible, this season because of #ThisTeam

Yes, I spent sometime challenging my own biases and went the way of the dark side with the Giants. It was a five year quest to erase my past and start fresh in the orange and black.

However, when I started this season, I realized how likable this team was in LA and I rode them all the way to now the World Series.

Coupled with the memories of my grandparents being decked out in blue while visiting Dodgers stadium as a kid, the aura of what it meant to be not only a fan, but to be a part of a family.

Stupid traditions came back to me like standing, even at home in my living room with two outs and a two strike count. The chants of Let’s go Dodgers preceding and following a home run or a big play.

The chants-“Mete un palo…” as if every Latin American hitter possesses the power to do so and hears me.

I said it for Pedro Guerrero, Alfredo Griffin, Raúl Mondesi, etc.

So here we are, game 6 of the World Series and the unknowns become quantified and magnified on an even greater level.

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