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It's tempting to create narratives in sports. We want to root for the underdog, or we want to see a rookie step up in a big situation, or we want to see the battle-hardened veteran push back the bonds of time for one last glorious autumn day in the sun. Narratives are inherent to the sport, because we like stories. We like arcs. Beginnings, middles, endings; villains and traitors, heroes and resurrections.
Unfortunately, narratives in sports are often disingenuous. We ascribe traits of character to players when there is no arc to unfold. The next period, the next shot, the next inning, the next pitch - there is no predetermined outcome, nothing written on the next page. We look at numbers and we look at performances and we create stories around them. And they're not true, because we try to fit teams and results into a storyline that doesn't exist.
Sure, narratives can be beautiful. But they're frequently false.
But you know what? Today, I don't care. The Twins are in first place. The Twins have the best record in the American League.
Yeah, that's right.
The Minnesota Twins have the best record in the American League.
It's beautiful because nobody saw it coming. It's beautiful because it's wholly unexpected, because the Twins are this year's proverbial underdog, because when the annuls of 2015 were written in March the Twins were nowhere near a winning record much less the best record in the American League.
Write the narratives. Talk about how there's no way this performance is sustainable. I don't care. This is fantastic, and it's about as fun as baseball can get for the end of May. I'm going to enjoy this moment. This is our team, and our team is...I still can't quite believe it...in first place.
The Minnesota Twins have the best record in the American League.