EDIT: 11/2/2015:

It’s been one year since I wrote this post, and not much has changed. I continue to attend one of the finest institutions in the country, and I continue to be surrounded by individuals who not only tolerate my love of the Royals, but encourage it.

But, one thing did change: the Royals became World Series champions today.

And this post couldn’t stay any truer.

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11 weeks ago, I left all my family, friends, and favorite places. I moved 9 hours away to a school I was only mildly excited to be at, into an apartment with no roommates. And I hung up a Royals blanket.

* * *

On the very first night I went out with law school students, we did a trivia competition at a local bar. It was a standard trivia competition, where you collaborated – quietly, this is the key to the story here – on your answers, and sent a messenger up with your written sheet of responses. This was the first time I met any members of my team, who also happened to be current schoolmates and future colleagues.

In the sports section, because every trivia competition ever has a sports section, the question was, “What team does All-Star catcher Salvador Perez play for?” And acting how every mild-mannered, regular human being would do, I immediately stood up, screamed, “THE ROYALS,” and promptly sat down in shame. Remember, I said this was a quiet trivia contest.

And then, everyone figured out that I am a Royals fan.

* * *

This isn’t a column about what a crazy ride this has been, and how much joy the Royals have brought this city, and how proud I am to be a part of this post season. We know all that is already true. No, this column is about how a team of strangers I have never met, (save one glorious, short-lived Twitter conversation this summer), changed my life for the better at a time when I needed it the most.

This post season, the Royals have given me more than something to look forward to after long days of studying, and they have given me more than just a reason to put off my reading until tomorrow. The Royals have given me more than pride, more than joy, even more than pure happiness. The Royals have given me a home in a city I never thought would be home.

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Here in South Bend, we like to talk about sports. Usually, we like to talk about Notre Dame sports. Mostly, we like to talk about Notre Dame football.

But then sometimes, a crazy enough fan comes along, and her team makes the Wild Card game, and then the ALDS, and then the ALCS, and then the freaking World Series, and all of the sudden, football isn’t what she wants to talk about anymore. She wants to talk about baseball. With anyone who wants to talk baseball with her.

For every game the Royals played this season, and especially in the post-season, I made a new friend. In a place where I came in with precisely zero friends, with low hopes of increasing that number, I suddenly met a group of people who not only recognized my crazy-ness, but accepted it. People I didn’t know when the Royals were barely floating along the .500 line this summer were high-fiving me in hallways, nodding at my hat, and stopping me to talk in the library. Instead of watching games huddled alone in my apartment with my blanket on the wall, I got to watch with two amazingly dedicated, lifelong Royals fans. And often, friends came to watch with us and to celebrate with us.

The tired but true party line on sports is that it cultivates relationships in a way no other activities can. The father-son bond. The bond between you and the stranger sitting next to you when your team scores a touchdown, slams a dunk, or hits a home run. The bond between a random undergraduate walking along campus and a law student on her way home from class.

Sports are amazing because for a girl terrified to be in a brand new city and equally terrified to be part of such a brilliant, motivated law school, I finally feel at home. I felt at home every time someone told me “go Royals!” in passing, or asked about the game, or griped about Pablo Sandoval with me (because man, that guy.) I felt at home when my contracts professor used a hypothetical about the Royals, and half the room turned to give me a smile. I finally, finally felt at home when, despite the loss, I got to watch Game 7 with a group of guys who made me laugh even when Panda reached base for the 47,000th time in the night.

I owe so many of my new friendships to the Royals, and that’s a gift not even a World Series Game 7 loss can take from me.

* * *

Thank you, to all the new, wonderful people I’ve met so far who have talked with me, cheered with me, and grown to love this Royals team with me. They might not be Royals fans next year, and they probably won’t be Royals fans tomorrow, but for yesterday and the last month, I met a lot of new Royals fans, and I needed them more than I could ever say.

Thank you to my friends, new and old, who have stuck with me through a long season and an even longer post-season. The old friends who understand and parallel my Royals fandom. The new friends who, luckily, still became friends with me despite the trivia night embarrassment. Thank you for the plethora of “are you alive/crying/dead/okay” texts I got in the moments after Game 7 ended. I have nothing but thank yous for so many people who have tolerated me, listened to me, and most of all, cheered with me.

And finally, thank you to Royals. The Royals who have brought so much excitement into my changing life. The guys who have turned every place I watch their games into a little piece of home by playing their way onto national television, so I can catch the game even though I’m 571.9 miles away. The ones who are champions in my heart, no matter what the final score is.

* * *

It looks like my Royals blanket and I are here to stay. Welcome home.