I’m not much of a sports person. I’d never watched baseball or known anything about the rules of the game until a few weeks ago. Things changed when you entered the World Series and prepared to face the Dodgers. Being an invisible and irrelevant part of the story of us in Toronto as we faced the Dodgers gave me permission to learn about the game. The rules were explained to me patiently by my little brother, Mathias. I realized how it felt to #WantItAll.
Mathias performed the cymbals with his drumline on Rod Robbie Bridge before every game that took place in Toronto. I was there to accompany and support him and bathe in the great vibe of the city as it anticipated what would go down in the evening in the Rogers Centre. Mathias and I would settle into watch the game on a TV in Maple Leafs Square after the pre-game had ended. I expected to watch a little baseball. To see a few thrilling hits and show-stopping runs.
How unexpected everything turned out. How truly distinguished you looked during the performance of the national anthem. How a certain type of single-minded focus spread across every one of your determined faces with every word of our anthem sung. How truly you seemed to be there for each other, vibing not only as teammates, but comrades—and even brothers.
I grew to understand the rules better over the course of the series. I realized who was who on the team. I began getting caught up in the intensity of the series. And I saw, in real time, how incredible it was to fight for something you want, to give every ounce of strength for the love or passion of something important to you, to show up despite the fear of failure, to be there for those who in turn have your back—whether it’s your team, your family, your tribe.
Almost every moment of watching your performances on the field during this series was either painstaking and anxiety-inducing… or chest-thumpingly, rip-roaringly elative. And every period between each game was filled with giddiness and excitement that only grew as we drew closer to an inevitable conclusion.
I’ve never been so proud of this city. I have never wanted to see a Toronto team beat the odds and succeed as much as I did at Saturday night’s finale.
Watching you step up to the plate each time and lock eyes with your opponent… breathe in and breathe out to steady yourselves… wait for the next moment to change the trajectory of the game for the better, or for the worse, gave me ALL the feels. Whatever happened by the end of the series, I realized that, at least to me, you were the winners.
The silence after the Dodgers won was eerie. I have never felt so heartbroken over a game.
But SO proud. Though you might not have gotten the title, you gave it everything you had, and for that very reason, Toronto STILL #GotItAll. Your best was enough. Truly. So, I want to let you know: Toronto Blue Jays, you’re the winners in my eyes…and how glorious it is to have been part of your journey.
Thank you for being there, for playing your guts out there on the field with the world watching, giving us all the highs and lows to experience together, making us proud, challenging your limits, having each other’s backs, and stepping up to bat, even when you might have felt like throwing up.
How lovely it is to have been there. What a thrilling experience, to know that the outcome didn’t matter as much as every moment each of you gave it everything. You absolutely did—and you did it with class, bravery, humility, determination, and talent. And now, the memories made will stay with us forever.
It isn’t true that defeat is always temporary. Sometimes, those who are down just stay down. But sometimes what looks like “loss” is simply about being in the middle of a process and what looks like “defeat” can, in fact, be victory, dressed up as a little hard-won, annoying lesson.
Defeat is transformative. It can make you even humbler. It can make you richer in life and dreams. There’s real power and faith in humility, in dreaming, and in knowing that perhaps it wasn’t the right time, right now…
And that whether you ever get a winner’s ring doesn’t truly matter, in the end. How you see yourself after experiencing what you see as defeat is what makes you the real champion.
Sending love, Blue Jays, and a hug. 🤗
Your friend,
Larissa Ho
