Harry Potter Week The Horcrux: How the Mariners Make the Playoffs By

What would you do to prevent your own death? Lord Voldemort, you may recall, split his soul into 7 pieces (if you don’t know that Harry is the seventh horcrux by now, I don’t know how to help you and I shan’t apologize for spoiling it) in order to remain immortal. Each piece was created through a different, meaningful act of murder. Splitting his soul through these acts of unspeakable evil made Lord Voldemort less than human; let’s note for a second, though, that it worked. Lord Voldemort did the dirty work, and he became basically immortal, if it wasn’t for one pesky kid who didn’t mind dying. Sure, there were some downsides – a few aesthetic sacrifices, no meaningful connection to any other human beings, being pretty bad at hide-and-seek (soul edition), but let’s give credit where credit is due.

Now, consider the Seattle Mariners. The last time they were even within unforgivable curse distance of the World Series was 2001. Mariners fans are now looking down the barrel of a “rebuilding” year (or three), which could be compared to the decade before the start of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, where Voldemort was cruising through the forests without a body, trying to possess nervous educators. What would M’s fans do to see the World Series? What seven egregious acts would they consider taking part in? I have drawn up a completely hypothetical list that I have absolutely, under no circumstances, already begun to take action on.



Engage in some kind of mob deal in which they take out the entirety of the Houston Astros via Goodfellas-esque hits. And Mike Trout, for good measure. Yes, he’s somewhat likeable and a little boring, but he’s gotta go. And Matt Chapman. And the Yankees, for funsies. If money is no object, and we feel fine with mob violence, I’m calling for the removal of at least 80 players from the league. Capture Kyle and Corey Seager’s parents. Run some genetic tests. Replicate the Seager’s DNA, until we have a minimum of 25 Seagers running about, all of whom have a Mariners contract signed in lieu of a birth certificate. Collect clean urine. I don’t really feel like I need to explain this one much further, but if Robinson Cano had asked me, I would have given him my urine. Unfortunately, he didn’t have my number at the time. And now he’s a Met, so he never will, and that’s the only reason Robbie and I are not in constant communication. Bring back Nelson Cruz from the Twins, as an actual twin. Use the power garnered from the Amazon Spheres and Jeff Bezo’s shiny head to literally electrify the bats, or boomsticks, of the Cruz twins. It won’t matter that we have almost no defense if we are scoring 20 runs per game. Spend a lot of time and resources inventing invisible pine tar straight from Pacific Northwest Pines. Crowdsource from Etsy and Pinterest, potentially NASA. Rebuild Felix Hernandez using the same cyborg-level technology used to reconstruct the Six Million Dollar Man. When questioned about his remarkable return to his prime, insist loudly that he just “made some adjustments” and “really responded to coaching this year”. Collect all of the hairplugs used by Joe Buck over each World Series Game he has announced for. Animate them, like Frankenstein’s monster. Name the monster Bucky. Seattle now has a new mascot, a la Gritty. The city is united, and Safeco (excuse me, T-Mobile park, aka Horcrux number 8) is full every night. The team stages a run the likes of which haven’t been seen since Major League. The Mariners are champions, and Bucky reigns supreme.

At the end of the day, however, it should be noted that partaking in any of these actions would make actually reaching the playoffs feel significantly tarnished. Lord Voldemort did not actually achieve immortality through literally murdering lots of people. This was a tough look for the Death Eaters, who largely ended up in Azkaban. It’s fair to reason, then, that the Mariners reaching the World Series through also literally murdering lots of baseball players via mob-proxy would probably not feel so great, and would definitely end up a new kind of prison sentence for baseball grievances. There are a lot of things, magical or not, I would do to see the Mariners make it to the World Series. Unfortunately, until we discover a hidden chamber underneath the clubhouse containing a competent shortstop, a closer, and a minimum of three passable starting pitchers, Mariners fans will have to continue to celebrate exciting home runs and meaningful moments, rather than hope for the House Cup.

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-Lily Doyle