Future Blue Jays Newsletter

I’m one of those guys. That is, a Day One Blue Jays fan, one whose parents wrote a note excusing him from school so that he could walk home to watch the snowy Home Opener 48 years ago.

For Blue Jays fans of a more recent demographic, let me explain what the Jays meant. There were few chances to watch live baseball in the mid-1970s. There was an Expos game on Wednesday night, then an NBC Game of the Week on Saturday. That was it. There was no MLB Central, no Jays in 30, no Sportsnet or TSN to catch you up on the previous evening’s games. You had to stay up to watch the five-minute sportscast on the 11:00 news to get word of the game if you didn’t listen on radio. We did have electricity and running water in those long ago days, but for most baseball fans north of the border, the only live version of the game - especially in the baseball desert of Southern Ontario - was the local town team. And that’s why my hometown team, the Midland Indians of the York-Simcoe Baseball League, was the one I saw the most of in person until the Jays game along.

I remember the Indians’ Thursday night games very well - a local hamburger stand operator named John Deakos would bring pails of his fresh cut fries to cook up in a little stand behind home plate at the town diamond in the middle of Little Lake Park. Whenever I watch a game in venerable Nat Bailey Stadium in Vancouver, I’m taken back to my Midland days. The Midland ballpark, like The Nat, was surrounded in the outfield by tall mature maple and oak trees. At our park, the stately Midland Arena Gardens, a greco-roman structure built in the early years of the Depression, formed part of the left field wall. Growing up, I dreamed of donning the Indians uniform (adorned with the unfortunate Chief Wahoo logo), and patrolling centerfield in “floodlight fixtures,” as a local reporter who once covered the Chicago Black Hawks called the Thursday night games. But a spectacular fire in 1976 (just months after the old building - coincidentally or not - had its 40+ year old roof condemned) put an end to that dream. The demolition of the old rink and construction of the new one put an end to the ball diamond, the team, and my dream. Home plate now lies somewhere under the parking lot of the sprawling North Simcoe Recreation Complex.

Those televised games were our portal to another world, and when the Blue Jays came along in 1977, so did a chance to see live, pinch-me, in-person baseball. My brother (who is five years older, and unlike me, played for our hometown team for several seasons) drove our high-mileage 1973 Ford Montego, his best friend Willie Rutherford in the passenger seat beside him. Willie’s name was actually Wayne, but his height and the fact that he played 1st gave him a nickname everyone still calls him today. In the back seat with me were my pals and teammates John (Ferg) Faragher and Fred (Gates) Wallace. It was a Victoria Day Monday with a decent crowd on hand to watch the Jays drop a 3-0 decision to Oakland. 

That ‘77 Jays team was, in a word, bad. After a 10-11 April, the collection of expansion draft castoffs went 44-96. No one represented the crash and burn back to earth on the team more than AAAA guy Otto Velez. After not being able to catch on with the Yankees for several years, he was the American League MVP for the month of April for Toronto after slashing .442/.531/.865. With little protection in the lineup, Velez posted a .735 OPS in the second half, his numbers buoyed by a late-season surge against expanded roster pitching.

We struggled along with bad teams for the next several seasons, the low point of which for me was Len Barker’s perfect game against a paltry Toronto lineup in the miserable strike-induced split season of 1981. But by 1982, change was in the air, both in the front office with the departure of Peter Bavasi, and his replacement by Pat Gillick. 1983 had us excited, and if not for an other-worldly 35-5 start in the 1984 by the Tigers, the Jays would have contended for a pennant, which they finally won the following year. Several years of frustrating near-misses occurred before the shocking trade with the Padres that brought Joe Carter and Robbie Alomar east in exchange for fan favourite (and seemingly forever Blue Jay) Tony Fernandez and the hugely promising Fred McGriff made the team serious - as opposed to marginal - contenders once again. Gillick had shed his Stand Pat nickname, and by 1993, we had not one but two World Series titles.

Sadly, more bad baseball was to follow, largely thanks to majority owner Labatt’s sale to Belgian brewing conglomerate Interbrew, who had next to no interest in owing a ball club. Baseball interest dipped so low in Canada in the mid 90s, that tens of thousands of Canadian kids - like my own two sons - opted to play soccer instead of baseball. It made me sad, but I understood; many small communities like ours across the country were having trouble getting enough kids to field a team.

Then, of course, were the early years of Rogers ownership, when the team was far more concerned with the bottom line than fielding a winning club. Roy Halladay was often just about the only reason to watch the team. But Rogers finally got serious, brought in Mark Shapiro - love him or hate him, he brought this organization into the 21st century - and now, finally, we have another World Series team, and another trip to the promised land.

For me, it’s been nearly a half century of this team taking up most of my daily thoughts for half the year. Even though (save for a couple of Old Guy slow pitch years, where formerly light-hitting me was the team’s best hitter) I am decades removed from my last game, I still think of myself as a ballplayer. I know what it’s like to hear the crack of the bat, to feel the ball in your glove after making a running catch, and to enjoy the camaraderie that comes with being part of a team. That view from the CF camera is my view; it’s still how I feel I see the game best.

And now, things are about to go full circle. If the series goes 6 games - and I think there’s a decent chance it will - my sons and I will be at the Rogers Centre to watch. Even though they grew up playing a different game, they are now avid baseball fans. Our youngest, who lives a 17-minute walk away from The Nat, FaceTimed with me for the Jays’ game seven win against the Mariners (our oldest was studying for a CPA exam, but he was watching). To be taking them both to this game is a huge thrill, although as my oldest pointed out, I hope we’re not in a position to be cheering for the Dodgers in game five.

I’ve spent much of the past two days sending congratulatory texts to my contacts in player development department. Every one has responded with thanks. This is my favourite:

Win or lose, enjoy these games, fans. This is the third World Series team in my lifetime, but it’s not cliche to say it doesn’t happen often. Not to be morbid on such a joyful occasion in the hours before Game One, but part of my motivation for buying tickets was the realization that there might not be another one for a Toronto team in my lifetime. I hope I’m wrong from two perspectives on that one, but you never know.

Go Jays!