TORONTO — There’s a certain poetry to baseball in October — when the air feels charged, the gloves snap louder, and the improbable suddenly feels inevitable. And right now, up north, the Toronto Blue Jays are authoring the kind of script that makes you believe in destiny.
Toronto, the team few outside Canada expected to be here, leads the Los Angeles Dodgers 3 games to 2 in the World Series. One more win, and they’ll finish off baseball’s version of the Death Star — a Dodgers roster so star-studded and payroll-heavy it could be mistaken for a Hollywood blockbuster.
But here’s the twist: the Blue Jays, those polite Canadians with maple-leaf patches and quiet confidence, are on the verge of conquering baseball’s most expensive empire.
This isn’t supposed to happen to the Dodgers. They entered October as heavy betting favorites, boasting a lineup that reads like a fantasy draft — Mookie Betts, Freddie Freeman, Shohei Ohtani — the kind of talent that should win titles on paper alone. But baseball has a funny way of humbling juggernauts. The Dodgers are one loss away from joining the long list of teams that thought they had destiny in their dugout.
Toronto, meanwhile, just keeps playing fearless, fundamentally sound baseball. Vladimir Guerrero Jr. has rediscovered the thunder in his bat. Bo Bichette, back healthy, is peppering doubles into the gaps again. Veterans like Max Scherzer have added grit and leadership, and rookies such as Trey Yesavage have shown the kind of poise that belies their age. It’s the perfect blend of old-school moxie and new-school swagger — and it’s taken the baseball world by storm.
The Blue Jays haven’t lifted the Commissioner’s Trophy since 1993, when Joe Carter’s walk-off home run sent Toronto into sporting immortality. They’re now on the cusp of doing it again, and preventing LA from becoming the first team this century to win back-to-back titles. The last club to repeat? The New York Yankees, way back in their 1998–2000 three-peat heyday. That’s how rare this kind of run is — nearly a quarter-century of parity, upsets, and near-misses.
And yet, here stand the Blue Jays, the lone Canadian team in Major League Baseball, capturing the hearts of Americans and neutrals alike. Maybe it’s the underdog energy. Maybe it’s the contrast — a scrappy, likable group daring to take down the sport’s richest machine. Or maybe it’s just the pure joy they play with, a reminder that baseball, at its core, is supposed to be fun.
Meanwhile, the Dodgers — the self-styled dynasty that never quite dynasties — are tightening up. The swagger has faded. The hits aren’t falling. The bullpen doors swing open and the confidence leaks out. For all their resources, Los Angeles looks lost in the lights.
That’s the beauty of October: payrolls don’t make plays. Stars don’t always shine. Sometimes, it’s the team that believes the loudest that wins.
If Toronto finishes the job, it won’t just be a championship. It’ll be a cultural moment — a triumph for the north, for baseball’s middle class, for every fan tired of watching Goliath stomp around unchecked.
Because this time, David brought a bat. And from the looks of it, he’s aiming right at the Death Star’s exhaust port.
Now I know what you’re thinking, on paper, the Dodgers were the 3 seed in the NL and the Blue Jays the No. 1 seed in the AL, but make no mistake, Los Angeles came in a heavy favorite.
With the Dodgers taking Game 2 in Toronto behind a masterclass on the mound from Yamamoto and winning a thrilling 18-inning marathon in Game 3, all signs pointed towards another Dodgers crown.
Only now, it’s the Blue Jays in the driver’s seat. Yamamoto will try to save LA’s season on Friday night to force a Game 7, but for now, Toronto is sitting in the catbird’s seat.
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