Serious non-aggressive question for the "I'm Good" folks. Were there not times this post seasons when you were racked with nerves and butterflies? When Kimbrel was melting down against the Mother Fucking Evil Yankees, were you not pacing and full of nerves? How about just before the Benintendi catch?
Now you might answer that "yeah, in the moment, I was tense, but not in the grand scheme." Or you might say, "no, I was totally relaxed." But unless it's the latter, I think you could be overstating the level of how good you are. Perhaps I am colored too much by own proclivities, but I can't really imagine watching if winning wasn't really important to me. That's why I rarely watch college sports, the Olympics, tennis or golf. All are really good TV on their own, but I have no stake in the outcome and therefore they each do not hold my interest.
Curious as to how folks reply as I can't fully process being totally content and yet still watching every pitch or virtually every pitch.
And very sorry, Buck.
So, to go back to this, I think it's important to put out the distinction - I
actually enjoy watching baseball. To me that means, I can get emotionally invested in a great game, even if the team's success no longer ranks as high in my list of life priorities as it did in 2004. I think MLB has a fascinating dynamic that has emerged from its rules whereby most serious baseball fans can enjoy watching a surprising fraction of ordinary games that their team has no stake in, because most of the time you can see some great player whose legend has lit up highlight reels, or there's some hot new prospect to track, or there'll be an extraordinary play to admire. Even in games that are blowouts, the same is true. The NFL, to capture even a small fraction of that effect, has had to essentially sell themselves to gambling interests (though some around here would remind us they were
founded by gambling interests), and that's a far more capricious and ephemeral form of interest from the public.
This year I'd say my background emotion was "these guys are a hell of a lot of fun, and they're also the best team, and I'd very much like to see them get their due in all respects". If they had been pushed harder than they were, by opponents who were up for it the way the 2004 Yankees or 2007 Indians or 2013 Tigers were, it might have dominated my psyche this past month to a greater degree. But consider the situations you call out:
Kimbrel melting down vs MFY: "We're up 2-1, worst case scenario we have Sale pitching at home to close them out. Just fucking yesterday we humiliated them in such stunningly thorough fashion that even if we cough up a split here, I'll laugh all the way to game 5". I started rolling my eyes as the bullshit started that inning, and I hung on every pitch, but I wasn't a nervous wreck. Just very, very interested, and a little disgusted.
Benintendi's catch: I've spoken of this game ad nauseam here, but ALCS Game 4 was a pantheon-level exemplar of the art of baseball, to me. My working definition of art is a spectacle that evokes strong emotion in the beholder, and if you could watch that game and not be affected by it, I'm not sure you're a fan of the power of human achievement, nevermind a baseball fan. I remember starting to watch it while also doing other things on my laptop, and eating a late dinner, and basically by the end of the game I had a headache from staring at my screen too hard for too long. It was fucking intense. But even so, we were up 2-1 in a best of 7. Worst case, we were in a best of 3 with home field advantage.
WS Game 3: I appreciated the game, but frankly it dragged. I was a little nervous of losing 1-0 until JBJ hit his glorious shot, which I had kinda felt was coming because we were in the heads of their bullpen and you just can't shut this lineup down for long. Once we tied it, I knew the worst case for us was a pyrrhic victory for them and a statement made by us, even in defeat, that we're fucking coming for you, Dodgers, and you better be nervous. Martinez getting pinch-run for infuriated me ("that's the exact move Tito never would have made!"), and the less said of his replacement the better. At around the 16th inning, circa 3am ET, I realized I was nodding off pretty continuously and it was no longer practical to try and focus on a game.
Basically, there was no point in all of october that really inspired pathological feelings. No getting knocked around 19-8 to go down 0-3. No Derek Lowe making the pitch of his life to bail us out of a vice-grip situation. No Tony Clark up with an ability to hit a series-ending walkoff. No Josh Beckett standing as the only thing between us and the forces of darkness. No "holy shit, Detroit's way better than we are, I'm not sure we've had a hit in two games, how in god's name are we even going to salvage respectability here". At no point was I forced to contemplate their failure. If anything, that ought to be part of the claim to greatness of this team - sometimes it got
interesting, but at no point did it get
worrying for their fans.
And to your larger point - that if you still get nervous, you're not really "good" with the glories you've seen, and the converse as well - I think that's a matter of us now having perspective. I can fervently hope the 2018 Red Sox become champions, because dammit they deserve it and they're awesome and I root for them - but if they didn't, I wouldn't be like Job from the bible, rending my garments and shrieking out "my lord, why have you forsaken me". I'm forever "good" in that sense, that it's no longer possible to feel some sense of cosmic injustice as a sports fan. I'm left with an ability to appreciate greatness, to be stunned by great play, to say "holy shit did that just happen?", and to conjure loathing of those standing in my team's way. But man, if Dave Roberts gets thrown out, it'd have been a whole other level of philosophical questioning.