I believe in rooting for the underdog. I guess I hadn’t always noticed until recently that I was always a big fan of the underdog. There’s something about the little guy that I have a soft spot for.
Recently I saw my favorite baseball team, The Yankees, not make the playoffs. I was happy for teams like the Devil Rays who don’t have a huge income, but have a huge heart. They rarely have playoff teams, and I like seeing a team like them do that well in the playoffs. When I was a little leaguer, my team from Malone beat a big city team, the previous year’s champions, from Canada to win this big baseball tournament. This team had a pool of thousands of kids to select from, and we had the 12 kids from Malone who wanted to play summer baseball. They stayed at the same hotel as us, and the day before we met in the championship, they were talking smack to us. They had a 6 foot tall, 170 pound 12 year old who threw 85 mph. That’s the MLB equivalent of 115 mph. We were down by 1 run in the 6th inning with no outs, 1 runner on second base. This kid came in to pitch and struck-out our next two hitters and then had to face me. I watched 2 fireballs fly by me and got a little nervous at the 0-2 count. I knew deep down I had to do it. Next pitch I swung, hit a double back up the middle scoring the tying run. We went 3 extra innings and won it in the bottom of the 9th with our slowest pitcher on the mound. We, David, had taken down Goliath.
Now I always see myself rooting for the underdog. The town of Malone we live in is always an underdog itself; therefore it’s a perfect fit.