42nd & Grace

After dress rehearsal in the church which would host our production, the director – a sophisticated and elegant woman – looked me in the eye as the cast lounged and asked a pointed question: why does the city give so much to sports and not the arts.

“Cause the Cougars can draw 6,000 fans a night and we can’t,” was the short answer. And spoiler alert, there was no long answer.

She asked as I was something of a unicorn: a political nerd and newspaper editor, host of the Cats’ post-game show and someone who was an active part of the arts community and liked to trod the boards. It was not a popular response; it was, though, an honest one.

Sport in many places is the last avenue for community to come together. It can bind all ages and backgrounds into a collective experience. 

This memory came back thinking of tonight’s game between the LA Dodgers and Toronto Blue Jays. It’s the first time in many a year, outside of disaster, where people are joining together in a sense of unity. 

Most people remember Joe Carter’s home run to win in ’93. I remember Carter playing first in ’92, catching the toss to the bag from pitcher Mike Tomlin after Otis Nixon – a left-handed batter – laid down a bunt. That and screaming loudly from a hot tub in Quesnel to join the screams echoing across the country. A shared and indelible moment. 

Sidney Crosby’s golden goal is another occasion that knitted us together. The Grey Cup remains significant, as does the Super Bowl.

Those shared moments are disappearing outside of sports. Driven by social media and streaming, we silently drift into silos. 

The chance of a Who Shot JR? moment doesn’t exist. Hits on television today don’t come close to the numbers of earlier. Roots was a major event that drew eyes and altered perceptions. That reach has evaporated. 

Watercooler chat isn’t about what you watched; instead it is trying to figure out streamers you need to add to maybe, just maybe, catch up on the zeitgeist.

The irony is that streamers are going old school, dragging out episode releases to ensure viewers return. It makes Love is Blind appointment viewing again.

It is not just televison. Algorithms feed us our music or book recommendations or recipes. Our likes are reinforced, our capacity for new diminished. 

Sadly, those collective experiences that are etched only seem to arrive in times of desperation. Forest fires, shootings or 51st state chatter.

The Game 7 that sent the Jays to the World Series drew six million viewers – that’s roughly 15 per cent of the population. Many non-fans were tuning in. Those numbers will grow.

No matter the eventual outcome this promises to be a moment we won’t forget. We need more of them – not just in sport but in life – to construct connections that endure.

In the meantime: Okay, Blue Jays, Let’s Play Ball!