Many many years ago NBC--when there were only three networks, and cable was something vague on the horizon--had a thing they called "Saturday Night at the Movies."
It was one of those times when after a feature motion picture had run the theatre circuit, and run out of re-releases, they let movies go to be seen by the public that was either too young or old to have seen the flick in its original release, or was so stuck they had to see it again. Even with commercial breaks, which again, were the norm.
Since our parents nearly always went out on Saturday nights, Peter and I spent many an hour watching Leave it to Beaver, the Gillette Saturday Night Fights, Make That Spare, Calvin and the Colonel, and ultimately, at 9 PM, NBC's Saturday Night at the Movies.
That was where we first saw Alfred Hitchcock's films Vertigo, Rear Window, and The Man Who Knew too Much. All of them, fabulous films that blew our young minds.
In general, though, the movies were kind of hit and miss, but, one Saturday night, a Ray Milland film called, It Happens Every Spring appeared. Neither of us had ever heard of it, but, we started to watch, and well, before long we realized it was a baseball film, and well, we were both hooked.
The basic plot if memory serves was Milland was a kind of absent minded chemistry professor as well as a die hard baseball--I think he loved the Cards--fan. And, accidentally, via some experiment or other, he concocts a substance that is repellent to wood. Meaning a change at 58 MPH down the heart of the plate would be swung on, and missed by every batter.
So, with his concoction, Milland gets a tryout with the team, makes it, undgoes dismissal and suspicion, but eventually pulls the team out of its funk and helps them drive to a Series victory, albeit somewhat "enhanced."
I guess though, the metaphor of the title, and hope for fans and rituals every spring, that this year their team can do it, is what struck me the other day as I sat transfixed upon my computer screen, watching at-bat by at-bat how my various fantasy teams were doing.
I actually managed to pull away for a while Wednesday afternoon even, going upstairs from my office to watch some ball on the TV. But, then suddenly I was flipping between the Yankees/Jays and Jeremy Accardo getting a save, and the Angels/Twins, where KRod was protecting a win for Joe Saunders (both Accardo and Saunders are on my Tout Wars team).
It was truly the agony (baserunners given up, close pitches for balls) and the ecstasy (whiffing ARod, getting the final out) and it brought back all of the last 20 years during which I have played fantasy ball and obsessed over the results.
And that is something I don't expect to change too much this year, other than as the season progresses, and my teams stabilize, well, I do get more and more relaxed about it.
But on Wednesday, I could barely contain myself, running downstairs to see what impact on the newish standings a win and a save could bring.
Truth is I moved from 11th place to third, just like that (such, are the machinations the first weeks of the season). And, that is why I just sit there, staring pitch by pitch, at the computer screen, watching the standings bounce and tumble up and down with absolutely no certainty at all.
I am not too sure why I do this, and I suspect I am not even close to alone in doing it. But, just like those who hope for a win every year, or those who are buoyed by the idea of a guy out of nowhere, like the Ray Milland character, suddenly joining a big league team and leading the way to the World Series win, I guess I must be hoping and thinking the same for my teams.
I mean, somebody has to win.