It’s a 5-4 game in the bottom of the ninth inning in Pittsburgh, and it looks like the Pirates might drop one to the struggling Minnesota Twins. But Spencer Horwitz gets on base with a scrappy infield single. With one out, Bryan Reynolds steps up to the plate. On a 2-2 count, he absolutely demolishes a fastball, sending it over the left-field wall as fireworks erupt. Ballgame.
I’m on top of the world, watching clips of the walk-off blast from every angle I can find. Who do the Twins even think they are, trying to sneak that fastball by him?
And now to hit some homers in MLB The Show 26. I’ll even play some games at PNC Park, hoping I can replicate that dinger or even do something more impressive, like launching a ball into the Allegheny River.
Another day, the Pirates are facing the Colorado Rockies–one of the worst teams in baseball. Pittsburgh loses 10-4, with longtime starting pitcher Mitch Keller getting absolutely shelled and the bullpen struggling to do much better.
I’m going to bed. I don’t even want to look at MLB The Show.
Usually, when something frustrating or unfortunate happens, playing video games can be a great way to blow off some steam and forget about it for a little bit. But when the Pirates have lost, the last thing I want to do is boot up MLB The Show. I do not want to see the stupid, silly face of whoever blew the lead from the bullpen. I do not want to play as the batter who struck out with runners on second and third–I don’t even want to face them in the game, lest I be reminded of how badly they ruined my night.
So I suffer. I seethe. Just as I have, more often than not, for the last 29 years of watching the Pittsburgh Pirates. It’s what I deserve. As the Boss Baby once said so eloquently, cookies are for closers, and enjoying MLB The Show 26 is for people whose baseball team has won that day.
MLB The Show 26 is my comfort game. When I’m bored and have nothing else to do on a weekend, or I need a break from something more intense or difficult, I start the game up and take my Diamond Dynasty team for a Mini Seasons match or try to complete a Conquest map.
But if the Pirates lose, the comfort is gone. I can’t enjoy the home run I just hit because I’m thinking about Marcell Ozuna absolutely whiffing on a meatball down the middle earlier tonight. Say, what’s his rating in The Show right now? A 73?! I become visibly disgusted. Spencer Horwitz–the king of bat flips–is only sitting at a 68, and he can actually hit the ball! What is Don Kelly thinking starting Ozuna day after day? Why did I try to play this tonight? Perhaps I can do something more enjoyable, like taking out the trash or cleaning my cat’s litter box.
Occasionally, I try to ignore the pain and start MLB The Show up anyway, thinking it could somehow be different. Most recently, I was greeted by a server outage, like the baseball gods were mocking me for even thinking of playing after seeing my Buccos embarrass themselves. It also could have been Sony San Diego struggling with its online systems like it has for much of the year, but when a baseball fan has the chance to choose between the most obvious explanation and the superstitious one, we pick the latter. We wouldn’t see so many upside-down caps in the stands otherwise.
Does all of this just mean I care way too much about what happens in a children’s game played by people who don’t even know I exist? Yes. But while it does make the low moments worse–I sure would like to want to play my favorite video game after getting put in a bad mood–it also makes the highs even better. After seeing a walk-off home run or a game-winning play at the plate, all I want to do is play MLB The Show, and I know I’m going to have a giant smile on my face. Without a little bit of misery, I can’t appreciate that.
That being said, Bob Nutting, I still want you to sell the team.
