Adieu, les Expos

A combination of morbid curiosity, baseballophilia, and a disinterest in studying led me to the final Expos game ever in Montreal last night. Though I have little attachment to the team, I couldn't help but feel a bit sad to see them leave. Sure, Washington will support the team and be able to draw crowds of more than 8,000 per game even if the team is just as lousy next year, but it's still tragic to watch the first major casualty of the moneyball era. Imagine if the Expos had been able to afford to keep Pedro Martinez, Randy Johnson, Larry Walker, Vlad Guerrero etc. Imagine if 1994's season had resumed and the Expos, who had the best record in baseball before the strike, had gone on to win the World Series. Imagine if Steinbrenner couldn't spend more on his infield than the small market teams spend on their entire personnel.

The crowd's mood at the game was a mixture of emotions. Some of the anger was targeted specifically at Bud Selig, more at Peter Loria, and some was just unspecified and caused a ten minute delay when a few idiots in the stands threw crap on the field during the third inning. (Baseball Musings has a complete account of the evening. But c'mon...Sarah McLachlan songs are never appropriate at a baseball game.) With the game 9-1 in favor of the Marlins since the fifth inning, the standing ovations and chants of "Let's Go Expos" in the eighth and ninth innings were either absurdly inspiring or inspiringly absurd. The ending was deflating, actually; I had expected more of a catharsis, but it seemed like there was too much melancholy in the air for any looting or storming of the field.

Of the many signs that fans brought to the stadium, the winner has to be the one with a photo of George Bush with the caption, "Washington already has all the entertainment it needs."

I half expect to see a down-and-out Youppi next spring in the gutters of Ste-Catherine, panhandling and getting wasted off jug wine from a paper bag.