The Cinderella Snakes: A Love Letter

On November 4, 2001, Luis Gonzalez blooped a single into shallow left field to score Jay Bell. A walk off end to one of the greatest games (and series) in baseball history. With that, the Arizona Diamondbacks—in just their 4th year of existence—won game 7 of the World Series against the greatest closer of all time, Mariano Rivera, and perhaps the greatest dynasty in all of sports, the New York Yankees.

I was six years old in 2001. Honestly, most of my memories from that year are a tad fuzzy. But I do remember bits of November 4th quite vividly, including sitting with my dad in the glow of a cathode-ray tube TV as he explained to me that the purple team was from his native Arizona… that the gangly man on the screen was Randy Johnson… and that I had just witnessed history.

On November 4, 2001, the Arizona Diamondbacks became my team. And for some reason—truly a mystery to everyone in my family (including me)—I was hooked for life. Completely. Inexplicably. Irrationally. Hooked.

As a sports-obsessed kid in Boise, Idaho, I effectively had a hall pass to choose whatever professional sports teams I wanted to root for. Unencumbered by default fandom for a hometown pro team (and severely limited in my access to live sports coverage), I tended to like whoever I could get my eyes on during national, public, and rabbit-ear powered TV sports broadcasts. So, that meant I was enamored with Kobe and the Lakers, intrigued by AI and the 76ers, and mystified by Tom Brady and the Patriots (even though I wasn’t really sure what New England was). Outside of the pros, I, of course, fell head-over-heels in love with Boise State football too, but that’s a story for another day.

Newspapers, Heating Vents, and Yahoo Sports

For some reason, though, as 2001 drifted further in my memories, I didn’t fall for the New York Yankees or Boston Red Sox or Atlanta Braves or Los Angeles Dodgers, even though those were the teams on Saturday Night Baseball. I wasn’t interested in the Seattle Mariners or Colorado Rockies, even though those were the teams that “made the most geographic sense” (kind of?). I was on a pro sports island, but I was fully committed to the D-backs. Full stop. No wavering. No room in my little heart for another.

So, although I couldn’t watch them on TV or listen to them on the radio or really track them with my dial-up internet, I could still love them, and I did. Every morning before school, I would sit on my knees on the kitchen floor and read the sports section of the Idaho Statesman while warming my feet next to the heating vent. Every day. The Idaho Statesman wasn’t exactly noted for its coverage of the Arizona Diamondbacks, but it did publish the box score for every MLB game, and so I pored over the stats and loved the names (if nothing more) of Craig Counsell, Brandon Webb, Chad Tracy, Stephen Drew, and so many more.

Fast forward a few years and the internet was fast enough (sometimes) to get live game updates on Yahoo Sports. While I still couldn’t watch, I could get updates for every single pitch just seconds after it happened. So, I would run back and forth from the family computer, stressing over pitches as they came in. I adored Justin Upton, Paul Goldschmidt, and Ian Kennedy. When we visited family in Arizona during Spring Break or summer, I insisted that we catch a game (either at Chase Field or the Salt River Fields). When the Snakes won the NL West in 2011 (the last time this has ever happened), I took a picture of the replay video of their post-game celebration and set it as my inaugural flip phone background. When Facebook required you to set a cover photo, I didn’t really know what to do so I just made mine the D-backs logo and left it like that for three years.

The Blehcade, Resumes, and a LinkedIn “About” Section

From 2012 to 2022, the Diamondbacks were mired in a decade+ of bleh. Not tanking enough to do a full org reset and rebuild (looking at you, Astros) and not good enough for anyone in the MLB to really care about what was going on in the desert. A “mid-market team with below-average resources” (Bleacher Report ) stuck in the nasty center of the worst vortex possible: crippling mediocrity.

In baseball, it’s best to be good, second best to be awful (so that you can be good in a few years), and a far far far distant worst to be average. Boy were the D-backs average. Excluding the pandemic-shortened 2020, the Snakes averaged 76 wins per season (that’s 5 games below .500) over that stretch and made the playoffs just once (2017… when they were swept by… the Dodgers in the NLDS). Further, they played in one of the most challenging divisions in professional sports with the Dodgers, San Francisco Giants, and San Diego Padres in a league that puts few limits on financially facilitated competitive imbalance. Yikes.

It was not a fun decade+ to be a Diamondbacks fan.

Sports pundits like to talk about large market coastal teams, great teams, and terrible teams. They really love to talk about great (or terrible) large market coastal teams. So, good luck finding much coverage for an oppressively average mid-market non-coastal team. No one cared. I love sports journalism, but there wasn’t much to come by for much of this decade of bleh.

But, since 2001, the Diamondbacks were my team and I loved them and there was no other option, even though I had every “right” to choose someone else. I had never lived in Arizona nor did I during the blehcade. When I told people I was a diehard Diamondbacks fan they would often respond something like: “Oh… I’m sorry… why? Isn’t that Arizona… You could’ve chosen... anyone since you’re from Idaho”

Ah, okay, that’s not really how it went. The more common response was: “Oh…” There wasn’t much else to talk about, really. How many people have an opinion on the Diamondbacks? Not many. What’s a Diamondback?

So, my love for the Diamondbacks became a comically tragic part of my background. The “Other Interests” section of my resume would always say something to the effect of “avidly irrational fan of the perpetually disappointing Arizona Diamondbacks” (not an exaggeration, I just checked the last few resumes I’ve used) and the last line in my LinkedIn “About” section has been (for 5+ years): “My heart has been broken by the Arizona Diamondbacks every year since 2001.”

So what? Who cares. Honestly, probably just about no one. But, when you’ve loved a team since you were six and that love was forged on an island of fandom isolation you just do what you can.

2023 Season up to Today

When the 2023 MLB season started, I told my friends that I was cautiously optimistic. It was too early--this wasn’t our year--but it felt like we were finally turning just a little bit. The trajectory finally looked positive. So, I had a tiny sliver of hope that we’d at least make things interesting. Yeah, the Dodgers would win the NL West. They always do. And, honestly, the Padres would probably be well in front as well. But maybe, just maybe, we could slip into the postseason so that our young crop could get a taste of some games that truly matter.

I had faith that Corbin Carroll would be special (based on his 32 games in the end of 2022) and that his pre-rookie season 8 year / $111M contract might be a steal (pun intended). I knew that Zac Gallen, Merrill Kelly, Ketel Marte, and Christian Walker were the real deal, and hoped that the rest of the MLB would see that too. And, I knew that we had a bunch of young, fast guys who would probably swipe a lot of bases now that the bags were a bit larger.

Other than that, there were a lot of unknowns, but I had some hope. Full pitching rotation? Nope. Bullpen? Not really. Closer? What’s that? But hey, the goal was “make it interesting” not “make the World Series.”

I was excited for 2024, and you can’t get to 2024 until you do 2023, so I was curious for 2023. And what a roller coaster year it was. Phoenix-hot start. Seemingly inevitable catch-up by the Dodgers. Gallentines day ASG start in Seattle. COOOORRRRRBIIIIIN Franklin Carroll!!!! Post-All-Star 50-game nightmare. (2024 was the year to be excited, right?) The ship is still sailing, I think? Maybe? Wow… and then a 4 game losing streak to limp our way to the end…

… But, ladies and gentlemen, we made it to the Postseason. True, if the wild card had not been expanded a few years ago we wouldn't have made it as the 6 seed. True, we did almost everything we could in the last week of the regular season to not make the playoffs (but thank you, Reds and Cubs!). Who cares? (Answer = almost no one.) We made it... a precocious, inexperienced band of no-names with absolutely nothing to lose.

I had low expectations. Frankly, I was just happy to be there and delighted that I could at least have some emotional stake in October baseball. I said many times, “we’re playing with House money, so we can’t really lose.”

So, you can imagine my shock when my beloved boys in Sedona red and teal, who had nothing to lose… didn’t lose.

The sweep of the Milwaukee Brewers in the Wild Card was a blur. A pleasant surprise, but nothing more. I couldn’t really dispute the pundits’ refrains that yeah, the D-backs maybe can win with Gallen and Kelly in a best of 3, but that gets a lot harder as the series get longer. True.

I couldn’t dare expend my pent-up stockpile of hope that we could keep advancing (after a blehcade you're pretty cautious to spend the little hope you have). 2023 wasn’t the year. The Dodgers were next, and the Dodgers always win in the games that actually matter and the Dodgers have two legit MVP candidates and the Dodgers boast a freakily ageless Clayton Kershaw. It’s just how it is in modern baseball. The script said that the $200M+ payroll Dodgers (questionable rotation and all) win against the Diamondbacks in October.

When Game 1 of the NLDS started, DISH Network’s online login system wasn’t working, so I frantically struggled to get the game on. By the time I had found a workaround, Kershaw had his head in his hands on the bench and my Serpientes had put up more runs in the top of the 1st than they had scored against the Dodgers in the past four games combined. Wow. Game 2 deja vu. When we took out the brooms in Game 3, I could hardly believe that my Dodger Demon had been (at least for a time) exorcised. Who'da thunk?

For the first time in my adult life, though, I felt a sense of extrinsic pressure in my Diamondback fandom, which is distinctly different than the intrinsic, love-driven irrational pressure that an Idaho kid feels as he devotedly tracks pitch-by-pitch changes during games that no one else nearby cares about at all. I had staked my personality and public image on a love for a team that generally disappoints... I wore a Diamondbacks hat to class literally every day. When friends would ask me if I was excited, I would respond honestly: “No, I’m just stressed. I can’t believe it.”

But the Dodgers were weaker than their record on account of injuries, and the Philadelphia Phillies were a behemoth. What’s more? Last year’s NL champions came in with an even better lineup than the year before and had just taken down a generationally fantastic Braves crew. On paper, the NLCS matchup was almost laughable. Bryce Harper and Trea Turner and October Schwarber (+ Realmuto and Castellanos and Wheeler and Nola and a slew of others) against… … …

ESPN’s experts projected that the Phillies would have it in 5 or 6… maybe 7 if things got spicy. To be fair, Schoenfield called D-backs in 7, but the justification was that “nobody is going to pick the Diamondbacks, which underestimates that OF COURSE Arizona has a chance to win, even if Philly has all those vibes going right now.” So… a contrarian-for-the-sake-of-contrarian pick for the Snakes because technically it’s possible for both teams to win in a series (technically… math is math).

Good thing they actually play the games.

In the top of the 5th inning during Game 6, when Ketel Marte tripled to score Corbin Carroll and put the D-backs up 4-1, I called my dad:

Dad: Chapman, are you watching the…?

Me: Of course. Dad, I think they might go to the World Series… I know it’s only game 6 so there’s still another one, but it could actually happen…

[it felt sacrilegious to even think... or say]

Me: Dad, do you wanna go to the World Series with me if they go? I looked it up. If Arizona wins they will be the away team no matter what happens with the Astros and Rangers. That means Game 3 is in Phoenix. It probably makes sense to buy tickets now to arbitrage prices since it’s a conditional game. I think I'm going to buy tickets just in case because they're only going to get pricier.

Dad: What happens if the game doesn’t…

Me: Don’t worry, it’s a full refund. I looked it up. Basically it’s just an interest-free loan to Ticketmaster haha. Would you like to go? I think I have to go… it’s almost like a duty after all these years. I talked to Kim about it already, she understands. I need to go.

Dad: Sure, I’d love to go.

Me: Great. I’ll call you as the game progresses. Still figuring out flights and stuff and trying to do some homework haha.

Then Game 7. This story ends (for now) with me walking alone on a brisk Tuesday evening in Palo Alto with the “Do Not Disturb” setting turned on on my phone. Some friends had come over to watch the game, but they were long gone to put their kids to bed before I left on my walk. As the game entered the bottom of the 9th, it was just my wife, Kimberly, and me with messy plates and partially-eaten finger foods.

My sincere apologies to Paul Sewald. I’ve actually never watched him pitch in the postseason. I’m not superstitious with baseball, but I am a little ‘stitious. And when you’re a little ‘stitious like me and you've been burned for over a decade you don’t watch your closer during a save situation. So, I just go for a walk. Sometimes I listen to music or a podcast. Sometimes I listen to scriptures. Sometimes I listen to my thoughts. But I just walk. I have to turn off all notifications, because I know that my friends will text congratulations if Paul closes it out, so if I don’t get texts I’ll get increasingly concerned that I’m not getting texts. So, I just walk with no notifications. For most of this postseason, I had put a 15-minute timer on my save-situation walks. But for Game 7, it was 25… I couldn’t dare check my phone before the result was finalized.

Kimberly called after 22.5 minutes to make sure I was okay (boldly piercing the “Do Not Disturb” veil). Paul threw a clean 1-2-3 9th. 15 pitches. Game over (and had been for about 15 minutes, so she was starting to get a bit worried). I opened my phone to see “TURN YOUR NOTIFICATIONS ON” and “IT’S HAPPENING” from a close friend, and then, of course, a slew of snake emojis from friends and colleagues who have hopped on the Diamondback bandwagon out of compassion (pity?) for me.

Once I knew the result, I called my dad again—we had both already purchased our flights and Game 3 tickets, so there was nothing to coordinate, but it felt right to call anyway.

Dad: They did it. Incredible game.

Me: I can’t believe it. I feel… really emotional…

Dad: Well, when you’ve loved something for 22 years.

Me: It’s true… Yeah… I feel kind of hazy. It’s weird…. it’s just been so long.

The 2023 Fall Classic: Texas Rangers vs. the Cinderella Snakes.

The Week(s) Ahead

Earlier in the playoffs, CBS put out an article ranking “all 16 possible World Series matchups,” and Rangers vs. Diamondbacks was #13… slightly better than #14 and #16 (the absolute worst), which also included the Diamondbacks. The Spun noted that this “World Series Matchup Has Everyone Feeling Bad for FOX Executives” and pointed out that the Diamondbacks are the 26th most popular team in baseball (… out of 30). In a friendlier (?) spin, MLB.com made a case that the D-backs are “the unlikeliest World Series team” and “most shocking [NL or AL] pennant winner in MLB history.” In other places, I read about how the Diamondbacks didn’t win against the Phillies, but the Phillies just found a way to lose.

Big ol' (young, actually) underdogs with a big ol' bunch of no-names that no one really cares about on baseball’s biggest stage. What a bummer.

With that context, it’s no surprise that no one really expects the D-backs to win the World Series that starts this Friday (October 27, which happens to be the same day that the 2001 World Series started). Betting markets have the Rangers as the clear favorites , as do most experts. As an impassionate, rational observer, those projections probably make some sense. But, I’m not an “impassionate, rational observer.” In fact, by my own resume, I’m an “avidly irrational fan of the perpetually disappointing Arizona Diamondbacks.” That self-declaration is only partially true, though, because the Diamondbacks are not perpetually disappointing. This year (and this postseason), they have been anything but that.

So, as a passionate, irrational observer I’m 100% all-in on my Cinderella Snakes. Let’s slither on to get that glass slipper. My hope is on the line as is my six-year-old heart. Just four more wins, and I believe that we can do it.

The Diamondback’s mantra this year has been to “embrace the chaos,” and boy have they ever. It’s been pure chaos, and for me, a deeply joyful plot twist in a 22 year long (and still being authored) love story. On paper, the D-backs don’t have the biggest bats or best pitching rotation or World Series managerial pedigree or anything else that you’d expect from a team in the World Series. They are an underdog in every sense… perhaps one of the all-time under-ist at this stage.

But, I’m in love now for 22 years (about as long as most of the team has been alive) and I believe that they will win. I said it two paragraphs before and I’ll say it again. Why not? For the next 1.5 weeks I’m going to hope against hope and believe that what shouldn’t happen will happen. And, since pundits have said that most people in the country / world don’t really care about this matchup, you might as well join the hope bandwagon for the Cinderella Snakes as well. Turn on the TV (or open up a live pitch-by-pitch stats update… or just read the box score in the newspaper the next day) and root for the kids in Sedona red and teal.

Thank you, Arizona Diamondbacks—I’ve loved you for literally as long as I can remember. Let’s go win this World Series.

Love,

Chapman

P.S., If you’ve read this far, I owe you some time back (we can settle my debt after November 4th). It was cathartic to write this, so thank you for the read and for humoring my longer-than-they-should’ve-been-thoughts-about-something-that-you-probably-don’t-really-care-about. Go Diamondbacks.