On Oct. 29, 2025, I walked up to my Hopp ride at Clarkson GO Station, exhausted from a long day on campus. The moment I opened the car door, my driver turned to me from her seat and shouted, “Guerrero home run, baby!”*

It was the first inning of Game 5 of the 2025 World Series and Vladimir Guerrero Jr. had just hit a homer against the Los Angeles Dodgers, bringing their lead to 2-0*.

My energy immediately surged. For the entirety of that 15-minute car ride, with the Sportsnet game stream blasting through the car’s speakers, we were just two sports fans enjoying each other’s company—two people connected by the love of the game.

Like many, I first fell in love with sports because of my dad—but that didn’t happen until I was 17. Growing up, there would always be a sports game on the TV—I got used to never using it during the evenings out of the assumption something sports-related would be on and my dad would be tuning into it. I was forced into a lot of different activities too: skating, swimming, dance, soccer, volleyball. But I quit them as soon as my parents gave me permission to.

Sports never made sense to me. Until one day, they did.

Bound for university in the fall of 2023 and hoping to spend more time with my dad before I left home and moved into residence, I decided to, for the first time in my life, watch the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Something in me clicked.

I was amazed at the joint collective these playoffs had created. After beginning to tune into hockey, I couldn’t go anywhere without it appearing around me—in ads and campaigns, in conversations, on people’s Instagram stories. I couldn’t get enough of being part of it. I’d watch every YouTube video about the Leafs that would show up on my explore page, read every comment under related Instagram posts and even give my uninterested but extremely considerate friends recaps of the previous night’s game.

More than anything though, I was able to connect with my dad in a way I never had before, and I was thrilled. My greatest takeaway from entering the world of sport came down to one thing: human connection.

A few months later, as a university student, I met the individuals who I now call my best friends, at a hockey game. I soon realized sport wields a beautiful kind of magic. It brings unknowing people together.

During the 4 Nations Face-Off in February 2025, the entirety of Canada joined as one to watch its star players defeat the U.S.—a huge statement at a time when the nation was actively threatened to be annexed. Every two years, so many different countries, cultures and identities unite to partake in a new set of riveting Olympic games—the same goes for the FIFA World Cup every four years. I lavish in that feeling of connection and collective joy every single time. They’re the moments I live for. Even when I’m watching a game from my living room couch, I still feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself.

During that car ride, my driver and I wound up talking about how that playoff season in particular, and in relation to the Jays, was the best time to get into baseball. She said it didn’t matter when and to, “just get into it.” I absolutely concur. Despite what many might say or believe, sports requires nothing, no skillset or experience, other than passion, regardless of the way it manifests itself.

So many stories, backgrounds, motivations and identities make up this electrifying world. To see an arena or court or field come alive through the unity of countless individuals who wouldn’t have connected otherwise is something that overwhelms me in the best way. And that’s exactly what Home Court Advantage hopes to highlight.

While there is so much about sports culture that must be called out and confronted and oftentimes makes me question whether my love for this space is enough for me to persist, there is also so much to appreciate, admire and celebrate. And right now, through this special issue, I’m choosing to focus on the latter.

As elated as I was when the Jays won Game 5 that night, all I could think about was the conversation I shared with my Hopp driver and how excited she must have been. To this day, I still think back to that 15-minute car ride. For me, it will always be the people and their passion that make sports a home.