Los Angeles is a city painted in a specific shade of blue—the deep, iconic Dodger Blue that adorns car bumpers, flags, and the jerseys of millions. But this October, another, brighter blue has emerged across the metropolis: a defiant, hopeful Royal Blue, often paired with a proud red maple leaf. For the thousands of Canadian expats living in L.A., the Toronto Blue Jays‘ arrival in the World Series isn’t just a championship bid; it’s a homecoming.
The Solitary Life of an Expat Sports Fan
To understand the magnitude of this moment, you must first understand the life of a sports fan far from home. It’s a life lived in different time zones, huddled around a laptop for a grainy stream while the city sleeps. It’s searching for a sports bar with a satellite package obscure enough to carry the Canadian broadcast, just to hear a familiar accent call the game. For years, being a Blue Jays fan in Los Angeles has been a quiet act of faith, a private connection to a home thousands of kilometres away.
In a city dominated by the Dodgers and Angels, wearing a Blue Jays cap is often met with a quizzical look. It’s a constant reminder of being an outsider. But this season, that narrative has shifted. The quiet dedication of isolated fans has grown into a collective roar.
From a Quiet Hum to a Community Roar
Social media groups for “Canadians in LA” have transformed from forums for visa questions and poutine recommendations into bustling hubs of nervous energy. Who is hosting a viewing party? Which bar in Santa Monica will have the sound on? Suddenly, the lonely fan is no longer alone. They are part of a pop-up community forged in the crucible of a pennant race.
“For years, you feel like you’re cheering into a void,” says Meera Sharma, a software developer from Mississauga who has lived in L.A. for six years. “You tell your American friends about a big win, and they just nod. They don’t get the history, the weight of the ’92 and ’93 championships, or the heartbreak since. But now, seeing other people in Guerrero Jr. jerseys at the grocery store… it’s like a secret handshake. It’s validation.”
More Than a Game: A Triumph of Visibility
This is the triumph: it’s not about the final score or who hits a walk-off home run. The triumph is in the visibility. It’s hearing “O Canada” sung with gusto in a city park before a game-watching party. It’s in the shared stories of skipping school to watch Joe Carter’s legendary home run, now retold to a new generation. For Canadians living in Los Angeles, getting to the World Series is already a win.
The World Series is a pilgrimage that has, miraculously, come to them. They don’t need a flight to Toronto to feel the energy of the Rogers Centre. They are creating their own Skydome-away-from-home in bars from the Valley to the South Bay, bringing a piece of Canada to the heart of American baseball culture.
The victory has already been won in the text chains buzzing with excitement and in the profound joy of seeing their team—Canada’s team—on the biggest stage. As the first pitch is thrown, a mighty contingent of fans will be there, a pocket of Royal Blue in a sea of another team’s colours. For them, the real win is about being seen, being heard, and feeling a little closer to home.
