A love letter to baseball, friendship, and finding joy again
There’s something about baseball that feels a little bit like falling in love. The slow build, the anticipation, the heartbreak, the hope that maybe this season will be the one. For me, this Blue Jays season was all of that and more: a rollercoaster of emotion, connection, and the kind of unexpected joy that shows up when life throws you off course.
Baseball, Heartthrobs, and Healing
Let’s start with the obvious: the Jays might not have made it all the way to win the World Series (Game 7, extra innings made it pretty darn close though!), but my heart still did a few laps around the bases thanks to George Springer and Ernie Clement. Tell me Ernie doesn’t look like a 90s heartthrob straight out of a baseball movie. Watching those guys play wasn’t just about stats or standings; it was about energy, teamwork, and that chemistry that makes you believe in something bigger than the game.
And yes, I’ll admit it. I bought the jersey (and finally retired my Bautista jersey). Trey Yesavage, the new kid on the block, had that spark. The kind of confidence and presence that makes you want to root for him like he’s your little brother and your celebrity crush at the same time. There’s something magnetic about a player who’s just getting started and already feels like part of the team’s story. Plus, it helps that he set a new postseason MLB record when he pitched 12 strike outs (Insane!).
Sports Are My Reality TV
Here’s the thing: for most men, watching sports is their comfort zone. It’s their ritual, their therapy, their way to turn off the noise of the world for a few hours. For some women, it’s reality TV. This is one of the few times that this girly dress-wearing gal will agree with the guys – there is just something about sports that draws me in better than any reality TV show.
The dedication, the drama, the investment—it’s all the same. We watch storylines unfold, we root for our favorites, we scream at the screen when someone we love gets traded or misses an easy play. The only difference is that my version of “who gets the rose” is “who hits the walk-off.”
Baseball, like reality TV, has that mix of chaos and connection that makes you feel like you’re part of something. It’s communal, it’s emotional, and when you really love your team, it’s personal.
When Baseball Becomes Therapy
This season hit differently. Maybe because I was rebuilding too. When I got laid off, I suddenly had time to breathe, to reflect, and to really watch. I made a decision early on that if I was going to have a season of pause, I might as well fill it with something I love.
So I went to every home game of the ALDS and ALCS. I cheered until my voice was gone, met strangers who became instant friends, and found myself laughing more than I had in months. There was a shared language in the stands: chirps, tequila shots, and collective heartbreaks that somehow brought everyone closer.
Somewhere between those games, I realized that baseball had quietly become my therapy. It wasn’t about distraction anymore; it was about belonging. About feeling part of something electric and alive.
And let’s be honest, being on Breakfast Television to cheer them on live was a moment I’ll never forget. Having my signs go a little viral on social media was pretty fun too! Maybe it wasn’t the World Series trophy, but it sure felt like a win.
Why the Jays Still Won
They might not have brought home the championship, but what they gave us was something better: a reminder of why we care. They reminded us that showing up matters. That connection can happen anywhere, even in the bleachers surrounded by strangers who feel like family by the ninth inning.
The Blue Jays didn’t just play baseball this year. They reminded us what it means to feel hopeful again. And when life feels uncertain, hope is everything.
So no, they didn’t win the World Series (No, I am still not iver the “wedge” ball). But they won our hearts.
And I’ll be right there next season, jersey on, tequila in hand, ready to believe all over again.
Dresses every damn day 