(written before the seventh game of the World Series)

So yes I am rooting for the Royals tonight, and not just because the Giants are a division rival to the Padres.  And its not because the Giants have won recently, and its not even because Kansas City hasn't even been to the playoffs since I was in high school.  Some might think that it's because they are a good story, because they play baseball with a balance of speed, pitching and defense that will make even a small market team a contender.  But that's not it either.  It's because of a lesson that I learned in part from a friend in college and part because of the Royals most famous player.

It was early in the 1990 baseball season, and my friend Erik Millslagle and I were talking baseball, when he revealed that his favorite player was George Brett.  Brett was nearing the end of a Hall-of-Fame career and was a bit short of 3,000 hits, a benchmark for nearly automatic induction.  Brett was struggling mightly early in the season and was apparently considering a mid-season retirement. Halfway through May, his batting average was .218, and after one of our softball games I made the remark that Brett looked done.  Erik got very serious and said that I should never count him out, that Brett was the ultimate gamer and that he'd challenge for the batting title that year.  I heard the conviction in his voice but I said, we'll see.  

Brett came into July that year with a .256 batting average, but Erik kept telling me that he was going to get hot soon.  Sure enough, by August 1st he had reached .300 and he finished out the season at .329, edging out another future Hall of Famer, Rickey Henderson.  The lesson was simple - you don't give up, not on a player, not on yourself.  

The following year we had a softball game on May 1st, and in the top of the first inning, we gave up ten runs - I made an error that let the last six in..  Was not going to be our best day, most of us thought.  Hitting in the cleanup spot, I hit a three run home run in the first, and tried to keep everyone pumped up.  We allowed another two runs in the second, and I hit another three run home run in the third, and things looked a little better.  In the fifth, I came up again with two on, and again I homered, and things started getting very interesting.  Our team, even though down by three still, felt like we were in the driver's seat, and the other team started looking like they were going to choke.  I ended up coming up in the bottom of the seventh, with two on and two out.  Time was called and the possibility of walking me was considered, but they pitched to me and I hit a fourth three run home run to tie the game.

 We went a little nuts, and lost some focus and ended up going into extra innings, which was a rarity for the Men's slow pitch division at UCSD.  No score in the eighth, but an error helped the other team plate four runs and we had our backs to it.  I came up with two on and one out, and again there was a discussion to walk me intentionally, but they pitched to me, and I hit another three run home run - my fifth of the game.  It still left us a run short, but my buddy Joel beat out an infield single.  That brought up our first baseman, someone whose name I can't remember who had a long left-handed swing that produced line drives, but no home runs that year, or by his own admission, any year before.  He quickly got behind in the count, but then launched a ball into the right-center gap.  Both speedy outfielders closed on it, the center fielder dove but the ball tipped off the end of his glove and rolled away.  Joel scored easily, and as the third base coach I waved home the hero, jumping as high as I'd ever jumped as I did.  He touched the plate and it was as if we'd won the World Series, we mobbed him and celebrated our 17-16 victory.  In the chaos I found Erik, and before losing my voice I asked if he knew why we prevailed.  He just held up his hand to show five fingers, George Brett's uniform number.  

We won the game not because of the runs I drove in, not even because of the walk-off.  We won the game because we believed that we could, and after the first couple innings we believed that we would.  The Royals and Giants both believe that they are going to win tonight, and only one will.  I hope its a good game, and that there are no injuries, and if the Royals could bring a championship to Kansas City, that would be cool too.

Postscript - for the record I am happy for the former Padres on the Giants: Jake Peavy, Bruce Bochy and Tim Flannery.  But come on San Francisco, act like you've done it before.  The rioting takes away from the team's accomplishment and really makes you come off as immature jerks.  That's what we expect when the Lakers win, and (God forbid) if  the Dodgers win anytime soon.