Hope: Mariners, Pears, and More
I became a baseball fan in 1967, the year Jim Lonborg, Carl Yastrzemski and the Red Sox won an improbable pennant before losing to Bob Gibson and the Cardinals in the World Series. In 1969 the American League added the Seattle Pilots and I immediately adopted them as my new “favorite team.” The Pilots were terrible, finishing with a 64-98 record. They played in a run-down minor league stadium, drew poorly, and lost money. After one season, the Pilots flew away to Milwaukee to become the Brewers. I went back to rooting for the Red Sox and added the Cincinnati Reds as “my” team in the National League in 1970. To my delight, in 1975 my favored teams met in the World Series, with the Reds winning in seven games. I didn’t realize how rare and wonderful an event the 75 series would be.
Threatened by a possible lawsuit from the city of Seattle, the American League expanded again to the Northwest in 1977. I’ve been a Mariners fan since then, through good and (mostly) bad. In 44 seasons the Mariners have gained the playoffs just four times: 1995, 1997, 2000, and 2001, four playoff teams in a seven year span. Other than that, nothing. They won the first round of the playoffs (what is called the Divisional Series) three times, but they have never won the league championship series—so, of course, they have never played in the World Series. Even in 2001, when the Mariners fielded a truly excellent team, with a final record of 116-46, they fell to the Yankees in the ALCS.
And 2001 was the last. The Mariners have missed the playoffs 19 straight seasons, a longer drought than any other team in baseball—and football, and basketball, and hockey. Of all the teams in the four most popular sports in America, the Mariners have the most consistent record of mediocrity (coming close to the playoffs three times), punctuated by periods of ineptitude.
Back in the 80s, the Mariners were consistently horrible. They never managed a winning season until 1992. So, on the bright side: the 19 recent years of mediocrity haven’t been quite as bad as the early years. The dark side: I’m nineteen years older than I was the last time the M’s enjoyed a playoff series, and I won’t live forever. Will I and other Mariner fans be forever frustrated?
My baseball fandom—and frustration—has another layer. I am the “owner” of a team, the Peshastin Pears, in the Expansion Fantasy League. The EFL is a wonderful of my friend, Ron Mock, and it thrives through the efforts of Dave Votaw (our league computer wizard) and our younger owners (Ryan Mock, Jamie Johnson, Mark Johnson), who give lots of time to maintaining the league website, writing almost daily updates throughout the season, and explaining the rules to less observant owners like me. I won’t go into many details—we have free agent drafts, rookie drafts, Rule 5 drafts, trades, a salary cap, and so on—but the result is delightful.
Except that I never win. I’ve been in the league for at least fifteen years, and the Pears have never finished above third. Mark Weinert, who had the wisdom to draft Mike Trout in the rookie draft one year, has won the EFL three or four times. Ron’s “Old Detroit Wolverines” have won, John Johnson’s “Haviland Dragons” have won, Mark Johnson has won, and so on. But never the Pears. (Dave Votaw has also been a league member from the beginning without taking a title. His team is the “Cottage Cheese.” Perhaps our problem stems from our team names? Are foods too gentle to win fantasy baseball?)
And now a new year is upon us. The 2021 major league baseball season started last Thursday. The Mariners took two of three games from the San Francisco Giants, so they’ve started well. But every baseball fan knows three games is a mere blip in a season that lasts until October. Mariner fans appreciate the start, but our expectations haven’t changed. We know, based on good sabermetric reasons, that the Mariners will probably not be contenders.
Things are much worse for the Pears. Two of my best players (Victor Robles and the marvelous Juan Soto) have yet to play at all, because the Washington Nationals are in a Covid hiatus. My top pitcher, Jack Flaherty, failed miserably on opening day. I’ve had relief pitchers give up multiple runs in short outings. My position players who have played have failed to hit. After the first weekend, the Pears are 0-4. I’m confident, of course, that things will get better; my team will not be spectacularly bad. It’s supposed to be a good team. I probably won’t win, but the Pears probably will win many games. Possibly, the Pears can win the league.
Probably, possibly. As long as there is a possibility, I can hope that the Mariners will win, maybe even contend for a playoff berth. I can hope my fantasy players will enjoy productive, healthy seasons.
Hope involves desire and a certain belief, i.e. that the desired outcome is at least possible. When a hope is no longer possible it is a wish. (I might wish the Mariners had won the pennant in 2001, but I can’t hope that they did.) Obviously, there is much more to be said about hope, which is why I’ve written Understanding Hope. Wipf and Stock has agreed to publish; the book should be out later this year.
Baseball hopes add zest to life. Even Mariner mediocrity crushes my hopes year after year, I come back for more. Who knows? Maybe this year.
There are other hopes, far more important than baseball hopes. The weekend just past brought more than the beginning of a new baseball season. We celebrated Easter.
1 Corinthians 15:20: “But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.”
This hope is at the center of life. Jesus, who taught us love, compassion, faithfulness, kindness, honesty—in fact, all the virtues—died on a cross, rejected by us sinners. But he rose from the dead and defeated our rejection. He is the first to be raised, and he promises to raise all who believe in him. The kingdom Jesus preached will come—not by trampling its enemies, but by resurrection.
Come, Lord Jesus!
