An October to remember

This is an opinion column about baseball and politics, which are two very different things.

For starters, baseball has one moral dimension. Politics, too often, has no morality at all.

So what’s the connection, you ask? It’s this: the Blue Jays – based in Toronto, of all places – were sent by a sympathetic God to heal us. To act as a balm for our psychic wounds. Specifically, those caused by Donald Trump.

When the Mango Mussolini got started with the 51st state garbage, Canadians thought it was a (bad) joke. After a while, literally nobody was laughing anymore. Trump’s ravings and rantings left us feeling angry, shocked – and, if the election results meant anything – looking for someone, anyone, to make the Cheeto Benito go away.

Canadians know that we lack the diplomatic or military clout to lash out at Trump. But we needed, and need, someone to defend our honour. To step up to the plate for us.

The jury’s still out on Mark Carney’s batting average, in that regard. Next week, his capable finance minister will table the most serious budget in decades. We should all hope that it provides a map out of the Trump-induced chaos.

But the Blue Jays? They stepped up. Big time.

It’s improbable verging on impossible: a bunch of men – mainly Yanks playing a kids game, ie., chasing a ball around a field with bits of rawhide and some wooden sticks – who have given a sad and anxious country a lift when it really, really needed it. They raised us up.

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