In a marathon Game 7 of the 2025 World Series at the Rogers Centre, the Toronto Blue Jays fell to the Los Angeles Dodgers in 11 innings. It was a devastating finish to a series defined by unforgettable plays.

The series left fans with indelible memories of hits, runs and near-misses — unbelievable and inexplicable moments that few will forget in the years to come. But that wasn’t all the stood out.

From chants for Vladdy — first baseman Vladimir Guerrero Jr. — to calls for a “Springer Dinger” from designated hitter George Springer, fans also witnessed something deeper: the unmistakable emotional connection among these elite male athletes.

In a post-Game 7 interview, utility player Ernie Clement tearfully expressed his love for his teammates while acknowledging the emotional toll of the series.

Blue Jays discuss their World Series loss. (CTV News)

Pitcher Chris Bassitt described the bond between the team as “true love.” The sentiment echoed by many of the players was one of love, gratitude and deep friendship — qualities often reserved, if rarely expressed, among men for other men.

With the public outpouring of elation, tears and unabashed love, we are left to wonder if men’s sport culture is beginning to move beyond the toxic masculinity that has too often dominated headlines.

Rather than uphold a dominant, all-too-familiar hyper-masculine image of male athletic competitors, this years’ World Series might have opened our eyes to a counter-narrative in sport.

Masculinity and sport in Canada

Our expectations of sport culture and masculinity in Canada have largely been defined by Canada’s other national pride, hockey. Its narratives frequently valourize toughness, stoicism and physical dominance, reinforcing a narrow vision of what it means to “be a man” in sport.

Recent controversies, including Hockey Canada’s failure to address sexual assault allegations and the misuse of registration fees to settle claims, have highlighted how entrenched these norms can be.

Research shows that boys and men yearn for close male friendships. Yet in national sport, we rarely see the close intimacy, level of support and caring that were evident among the Blue Jays this year.

Toronto Blue Jays’ Ernie Clement slides home during the sixth inning in Game 7 of baseball’s World Series against the Los Angeles Dodgers, Nov. 1, 2025, in Toronto. (AP Photo/Brynn Anderson)

Men are expected to compete, not care, especially in the gladiatorial arenas of sport.

The more common, and often troubling, side of male bonding in sport has been associated with violence, aggression and locker room cases of bullying, homophobia and misogyny.

A different model of male bonding

While sport culture is often centred around competition, dominance and showmanship, interactions among the Blue Jays gave a rare glimpse at how sport culture could be different among men.

A recurring theme among all players was a genuine sense of caring for one another. “It’s not very often you get a group together that genuinely likes one another and genuinely cares about one another,” said Blue Jays manager John Schneider after Game 7.

The media and fans were drawn to what appears to be an authentically, emotionally connected group of men. Globe and Mail reporter Marcus Gee called it a “fellowship,” noting how much the players “liked each other.”

Individually and collectively, the Blue Jays were emotionally vulnerable. Gee suggested the lesson the Jays offered was “the power of unity, the power of connection, the power of love.” Whether we call it connection, love or fellowship, there is no mistake that what fans witnessed was a rare and possibly enduring lesson also about sport, masculinity and caring.

Challenging traditional masculinity

Research has shown that while boys and men are aware of the expectations for fitting in and being accepted among their peers, they also have the capacity to resist conventions of sport masculinity. Male athletes can resist the cultural norms associated with being “one of the boys.”

What we witnessed among the Blue Jays’ players was a rare public display of affection and intimacy in sport, going beyond sportsmanship, camaraderie and fellowship. The relationships, respect, friendships and love went beyond the implicit licence granted by being on the field to hug another player.

Toronto Blue Jays’ George Springer, right, and Vladimir Guerrero Jr., left, hug Jose Berrios as they celebrate after defeating the Seattle Mariners in MLB American League Championship Series Game 7 action in Toronto on Oct. 20, 2025. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Frank Gunn

The traditional codes of masculinity when among the boys were disturbed and maybe challenged by repeated expressions of affection that men regularly avoid off the field.

The level of respect and outpouring of support along with the kindness of words signalled ways that men and boys can resist narratives of stoicism and the enduring challenge of expressing themselves.

There are indeed important lessons that sports fans might all take away along with the vivid memories of this World Series — lessons of caring among men.

---

• ** Read more: Suffering in silence: Men’s and boys’ mental health are still overlooked in sport ** *

---

The power of friendship

Images of Guerrero Jr. hugging rookie pitcher Trey Yesavage, the emotional honesty of Clement and the visible love the Blue Jays have for their teammates remind us of the significance of friendships among boys and men, and the power of healthy relationships in which men care for, and about, others.

Sport culture among men and boys is historically a bastion of elite, privileged masculinities. Too often, boys and men are complicit in the lessons we learn about being accepted, about belonging among the boys, about being like the rest of the boys.

Men often fear the isolation and alienation if they do not subscribe to the rules and norms typically promoted and upheld in sport culture, echoed in chants of “man up” or “no pain, no gain.”

Perhaps one of the greatest lessons from this World Series was captured in one final image: a red-haired boy collapsed in tears with his father resting his hand on his back, considering the future, not of sport, but of a son able to cry openly, unashamedly.