Karma

October 17, 2025. A cool and breezy evening in Seattle, Washington.

48,000 rabid fans pack into T-Mobile Park. Scream and shout. Desperately urge on the beloved, hometown Mariners in their quest to reach the baseball’s holy grail.

The World Series.

The American League championship vs Toronto stands knotted at two apiece. Tonight’s winner to take a crucial one game lead in the hotly contested best of seven series.

Momentum appears to favour the visiting Blue Jays, back on level terms after a dropping the first two games at home. Now, up 2-1 as the contest enters the seventh inning. The capacity crowd increasingly tense and restless.

Toronto’s George Springer steps up to the plate. The verbals rain down on the talented outfielder and dangerous hitter. The vitriol no doubt dating back to seven earlier seasons as a member of divisional rival Houston. In particular a reminder about 2017, when a controversial sign stealing scandal overshadows and taints an Astros’ World Series victory.

Springer digs in. On the third pitch of the at bat, it happens.

A 95 mile an hour slider hurtles towards the plate. Runs well inside, as Springer tries, unsuccessfully, to twist away. A sickening sound follows, as the ball crashes into his right knee. Definitely not on purpose, but it appears a serious injury.

Springer writhes on the ground in agony. Tries eventually to get up, attempts to hobble towards first base. But, the damage done, is forced to leave the game.

Disappointingly, thousands of Mariner fans choose to deride the fallen player. A mixture of boos, jeers, cheers. Certainly not every fan in attendance complicit, but the nasty response still clear for both those in the stadium or watching on television to hear.

Worse follows for the Blue Jays. A series of walks, other miscues, and two Seattle home runs sees the Toronto lead quickly evaporate. Five Mariners cross the plate, confirm a 6-2 win. T-Mobile Park quite literally shakes with excitement, a first ever World Series appearance for the Mariners now tantalizingly close.

The series shifts back to Toronto. The hosts, now down three games to two, with no margin for error. Still, unfazed, even with a clearly limited Springer in the lineup, they dominate game 6. Set up a most thrilling conclusion, namely, a “winner takes all” finale.

October 20. Game 7 beckons.

From the outset, the tension is unbearable. Every pitch, hit, throw, catch, managerial decision, magnifies in importance. In a reversal from game 5 in Seattle, the Mariners gain the early upper hand. This time, it is the increasingly edgy and frustrated home fans in agony, as their team fails to string together any hits, fails to generate any real scoring chances.

Finally, down 3-1, the Blue Jays engineer a possible breakthrough of sorts in the bottom of the seventh inning. Hope, that most endearing and optimistic of qualities, a walk, a bloop hit, a sacrifice bunt, combines to place runners at second and third base. Just one out.

One more measly single, any poke finding outfield grass, almost certain to at least tie the game.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man. George Springer steps gingerly into the batter’s box.

If nervous, he hides it well. The first pitch, courtesy of a fresh, flamethrowing Mariner righthander, screams toward home. A blazing fastball, once again well inside, close to Springer’s damaged knee.

The tension mounts. Hearts pound. Stomachs churn. Anxious fans chew on their nails to cover their nerves. Turn ball caps upside down, inside out, every and any superstition imaginable to spark a rally.

The second pitch mirrors the first but catches a bit too much of the plate. Springer, explodes from his coiled stance, flashes his bat, connects. I hear the distinct sound.

The distinct “thwack.”

And so, watching on television 4,000 miles away, I know.

Springer definitely also knows. Shimmying a few steps down the first base line, he drops his bat, admires the ball climbing majestically towards the left field fence. Tracing a perfect arc, it lands some 400 feet away, deep in the bleachers.

Best of all, 45,000 others also know. At the crack of bat on ball, those in the stadium erupt. Rise together en masse, praying initially perhaps, but soon delirious. Thunderous noise gives way to whooping, screaming, hugging, crying. Arms raise to the heavens in pure, unadulterated joy. The fans, along with millions of Canadians from coast to coast, salute a season defining, three run homer.

Yet another riveting, late game comeback. A nervy 4-3 Blue Jays victory and a place in the 2025 World Series confirmed soon after.

I take note of all the post game celebrations. Ponder yet another moment of October magic. Springer incredible, the epitome of clutch. Teammates in awe of one of baseball’s absolutely elite playoff performers.

Inevitably, perhaps even cruelly, the cameras home in on one of the few Mariner supporters. Pan the visitors’ dugout. Blank faces, thousand-yard stares, tears of a different sort, as all contemplate the crushing post season disappointment.

Furthermore, I imagine Mariner fans back in Seattle, those who opted to delight in Springer’s game 5 misfortune. For them, a disagreeable action boomerangs back to haunt in an unexpected manner.

Indeed, the Sanskrit word “karman,” translates as action or deed. In one sense, it refers to a law of cause and effect. That an individual or group action, positive or negative, can impact future experiences.

In this particular sporting sense, “what goes around comes around.” For Springer, and by extension his team, joy and euphoria replaces the pain and hectoring of three days earlier. For a misguided chunk of the Seattle fan base, anguish and heartache follow an unfortunate decision to mock an injured opponent.

Hopefully, this group now better understands that, in so many cases, every action has a corresponding reaction.

A group that has all winter to reflect.

Consider it karma.

Editor’s note:

The 2025 World Series starts October 24, with the Toronto Blue Jays set to host the National League champion Los Angeles Dodgers in a best of seven game series.