It’s been more than three months. Fifteen weeks. One hundred and two days. And I’m still sad. I’m still angry. I’m still in disbelief. I’m still heartbroken.
And sometimes, I’m ashamed. A little. For feeling all those feelings over something seemingly so trivial as a TV show. It is trivial, like fiction should be. But fiction doesn’t exist in a vacuum (most of the time); fiction is meant to reach out to people, to move them, to make them react in both positive and negative ways, to make people talk, to leave a mark.
I’ve been trying to put in words why Pitch left such a deep mark on me in just ten episodes. I’m saying ten, but I was hooked from the first.
I’m never hooked from the first episode.
I’m curious, I go “Hmm”, I think about it a little, I decide to give the second episode a try, but I never stay glued to my television thinking, “A week is too long to wait.”
Pitch hooked me from the first.
It was surprising, too, because of how unexpected it was. I had seen the promos on Global TV over the summer, but had not paid that much attention to them. I don’t watch a lot of live TV. I don’t have a list of new series I must try in the fall. I make an effort to watch a few French-Canadian series (because I want to encourage local content), but otherwise, I usually catch on a little later—which is not a bad thing considering how fast American networks pull the plug these days.
Yet, I sat down to watch Pitch.
I fell in love with it right away, like love-at-first-sight. In French, we call it “coup de foudre,” which literally translates as thunderbolt. That’s how it was. And while yes, I am #ForeverInLoveWithMikeLawson and his grumpy ways, bad back, and luscious beard, the reason Pitch hit me like a thunderbolt lies elsewhere: Ginny Baker.
From the first few minutes of the first episode, I was completely engaged in Ginny’s journey. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted her to succeed. I wanted the team to adopt her. I wanted her to do things on her own terms. I wanted her to be happy.
Then, I met the people around Ginny and loved them, too. They were all so well-defined, so engaging. It’s a rare feat to have viewers care about almost all your characters in just ten episodes. In turn, it’s what makes the cancellation of Pitch all the more heartbreaking. Because I care. Deeply.
I want to know how serious Ginny’s injury is. I want to find out if Blip, who is such a supportive friend to Ginny, can be as supportive of his wife when she’s the one who wants to shine in the world. I want to see if Amelia will be back. I want Eliot to thrive in his career. I want Skip to get a closer chance at the Cup. I want Mike Lawson to figure out what he wants, in and out of the field. I want Livan to learn to be a team player. I want Oscar to find love (*cough cough* preferably with Amelia *cough cough*). Mostly, I just want more.
More Kangaroo Courts.
More Lawson and Baker.
Most of all, more Ginny Baker. I want to see more of her journey. She has so many other stories to tell.
Alas, there will not be more. And I’m not over it.
I’m still sad. I’m still angry. I’m still in disbelief. I’m still heartbroken.