It’s 11:20 P.M. in Los Angeles. The Dodgers are in the seventeenth inning of a World Series game that’s been dragging on for six-plus hours. I’ve been sitting with my very committed, life-long Dodgers fan husband on our couch, this WHOLE time. Thank goodness it’s a cozy one—I’ve rarely felt as grateful that we decided to splurge and buy the L-shape so we can both stretch out simultaneously.
I’m repeatedly reminding myself that I choose to do this, because early on in our budding partnership I decided I’d try to love the Dodgers as much as he does purely out of care for him (and being invested in our developing relationship.) At this point, I consider myself more of a “fan girlfriend” rather than a true “fangirl,” but in this moment the distinction doesn’t matter much, as I’m committed to this couch until the very end. Oy! The things we do for love!
We’ve got a very active group chat going with friends commenting on each play while simultaneously griping about how “it’s past our bedtimes.” I’m imagining that fans who’ve come together in our Eastside neighborhood bars are standing arms around each other sharing rousing loud cheers and softly muttered “Oofs” when a promising big play doesn’t end up panning out.
Old friends are watching with eyes peeled and commiserating about just how unrelenting this is while strangers are bonding over exhaustion and hope.
In a world that’s grown increasingly disconnected–politically, emotionally, digitally–there’s something radical about staying with something this long, together.
Staying Awake to Stay Together: What an Extra-Innings Game Teaches Us About Connection
My (now) husband would tell you there’s something almost sacred about this collective insomnia. In an era where it’s easy to disengage (close the app, turn off the notifications, scroll to something shinier) tonight, millions of people are choosing to stay. To sit through every pitch, every pop-up, every moment of “wait, how is this still going?” And, we’re getting tired. Really tired. But we’re tired together.
Now it’s the top of the 18th…
Earlier this evening, Paul and I were fondly reminiscing about the 2018 World Series game against Boston where the Dodgers got into 18 innings and just how exhausted and bleary-eyed everyone was at work the next day. Now somehow we’re back here again!
OMG! They’re talking about bringing Yamamoto back in?! What the is happening right now?!
We’re practicing something that modern life doesn’t often ask of us: Endurance. Attention. Togetherness without a finish line in sight.
Even if we’re alone on our couches, there’s a real sense of community in the fact that thousands of people across this city, and internationally (we see you Canada and Japan!), are doing the exact same weird thing: caring deeply about something they can’t control, for longer than is reasonable, alongside strangers.
Reimagining Masculinity: What a Long Game Shows About Patience, Collaboration & Care
When Paul and I first started dating many years ago, I remember proudly telling him that “I’ve never dated any guy who’s into sports.” My, how quickly I ate my words!
To me, sports have always carried the scent of “classic (toxic?!) masculinity”—grit, stoicism, and jaw-clenching toughness. Eau du Man, if you will. But as this baseball game drags on, what’s on display isn’t dominance or aggression. Everyone in the stadium is on their feet, standing together. Kids are jumping and cheering, while rubbing their tired eyes. Again, I’m feeling very grateful for this comfy, oversized couch! In place of dominance or stoicism I see patience. Collaboration. Community. Collective deep breath after deep breath.
In a world where we often mistake power for success and independence for strength, there’s something beautifully refreshing about this kind of community: showing up again and again, tired but attuned. This far into the game, it almost feels like we’ve lost the initial spirit of competition and playing to win, everyone is really in this moment together, whatever the outcome.
It reminds me of what we often talk about in therapy—the quiet courage of emotional endurance, the vulnerability it takes to stay connected when you’d rather check out, and ultimately, the awesome power of community.