As you read this, the World Series is over. Either the Atlanta Braves or the Toronto Blue Jays now claim to be the best baseball team in the world.

It matters not, to me, which team won.

It does matter, to me, which teams played.

I’m glad Toronto was part of this World Series. For me, it finally gave meaning to the designation “World” Series.

I tuned in and watched most of Thursday evening’s Game 5, wondering if I would see Toronto win at home. It was an exciting contest, and I was impressed.

Since my closest baseball association is with American League teams, I’ve not watched too many National League games (probably none lately) and was a bit overwhelmed with the strength of the swings those Braves took. They really went after the ball, it seemed to me, on every pitch.

And the results showed it, from Otis Nixon’s double on the first pitch of Game 5, to Lonnie Smith’s grand slam home run.

But it is not the playing I’m thinking about this morning. That is not what most impressed me about this event.

What I’m thinking about is the “World” in Series.

Fellow staffer Mike Dowd and I talked about that the other day. We both hope, perhaps in our lifetime, we will see a more world-oriented World Series.

Maybe the Japanese will have an opportunity to compete; maybe the Cubans one day. It could be quite exciting, and might just liven up this grand old game even more.

That’s what Toronto did, for my money, in 1992.

There was something even more meaningful about this Series because two anthems were played, rather than one.

I find Canada’s anthem very beautiful, and I realized Thursday evening I know most of the words to our neighbor’s national song.

Toronto did something for baseball this year, but it also did something for Canada.

Somebody said, in the course of the series, that it took a baseball game to finally unite that country. If that statement was true, even for a moment, then there was much more to this World Series than winning or losing.

Something else came to mind as I observed this particular World Series. It was still, in a sense, an all-American event.

What reminded me of that was recalling the admonitions placed upon my family by Patricio Guerrero-Briones, a Chilean exchange student who lived with my folks in South Paris for the 1963-64 school year.

On a very regular basis, in a most sincere but slightly teasing tone, he would chide us for calling just ourselves Americans.

“You forget,” he would say in his best English-Spanish, “that we are all Americans. You are North Americans and we are South Americans.”

That memory is brought even closer to home since staffer Pete Warner’s wife, Annia, is from Costa Rica. She’s a Central American.

So Pat was right, from that perspective, particularly if you are a stickler for geography. Citizens of Canada or citizens of the United States: we are all Americans.

But it was still nice to have two countries, two flags, two peoples (who share one of the longest, unprotected borders in the world) having the opportunity to share this common experience.

It was nice to have the World Series in Canada.

Congratulations, Toronto. And, thanks.

Your efforts allowed all of us who followed the 1992 World Series to be part of baseball history.