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Griffith: Playoff dreams commence!

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In about a week's time, something remarkable is going to happen in America.

No, I'm not talking about the implementation of Obamacare. I'm not allowed to write about politics.

As the leaves begin to change colors, so does the water in the public fountains of baseball cities across this country in support of the hometown team. The weather gets cold, but the energy of the fan base sets major league cities on fire. Banners are hung; water cooler chatter is filled with high expectations and stories of days gone by. Scalpers get rich, as those not lucky enough to buy tickets the old fashioned way look for any way possible to witness their teams date with destiny. Dugout jackets are in high demand from the fan base.

In July, a 100-degree day can keep fans away from the ballpark, but blistering winds and unseasonable snowfall won't stop the stadiums from being packed beyond capacity. It's this time of year when every fan is anxiously checking the scores of teams they could not care less about, in an effort to be the first to know who their team's next victim will be.

Four hundred ballplayers and millions of fans will wake up next Monday dreaming of the greatness that awaits their team and their city. Every fan will clamor around the television to watch the boys of summer compete to become men of glory and legend. Fathers and sons will watch together, yell together, cry together, and hang on the edge of their seat with every pitch.

Yes my friends, the Major League Baseball playoffs are back!

What will happen is yet to be determined, but what we do know is that it will be filled with excitement, glory, heartache, and folklore. Stories will be passed down by each successive generation.

If you are a Cardinals fan, you will never forget Game 6 of the 2011 World Series, or the improbable come-from-behind win in Washington in 2012.

No one, especially Boston fans, will forget the Curt Schilling bloody sock, or the Red Sox sweep (of a team that shall remain nameless) in the 2004 World Series to claim the team's first world championship since the curse of the Bambino. Nor will they forget the Billy Buckner error in game 6 of the 1986 World Series against the New York Mets.

Cubs fans will never forget the name Steve Bartman and they will continue to blame him for all of eternity, for their epic collapse on Oct. 14, 2003.

The regular season gives us something to get excited about; something to get mad about; something to distract us from mundane everyday things.

The playoffs, though; the playoffs give us hope, give us legends, give us dreams of the glory that we can rub in the faces of fans of our rivals. The playoffs are where the impossible becomes entirely possible.

The playoffs, not Disneyland, are where dreams come true.

In my case, the playoffs are where tattoos are born out of drunken bets with friends, but that's another story.

Next week, once the playoff picture is set, I will dissect the teams vying for greatness. Until then, keep dreaming.

About the Author
Steve spends his time here at The Peorian analyzing data and networking to develop solutions to bridge the gap between…no wait, that’s what he does as a career. He’s here at The Peorian to write about other things. And in order to facilitate these efforts, we have banned him from using any forms of the words “data”, “engineering” and “antidisestablishmentarianism”. The latter should be for obvious reasons. I mean, really, how could anyone be FOR the disestablishment of the Anglican Church in 19th-century Britain?