The Psychology of the Slump, Part II

And so, anyway, when you’re in the middle of the slump and you see that 41-year old Glavine got off to a great start but then has a couple of bad starts in a row, so he’s probably over for the season and how can we replace him, and Carlos Beltran also got off to a great start but then just lost it and maybe he’s hurt and maybe he’s not worth $119 million dollars and we need another big bat in our line-up that can hit left-handed pitching, and Shawn Green is not the answer to anything because that great start is not really what he is now and maybe Jose Reyes, as good as he is, is not the greatest player of all time, so we do need other guys on the team.

And then you get this game where you see that Glavine isn’t over for the season, Beltran and Green may have just been in slumps they could get over, and Jose Reyes is ready now to resume being the greatest baseball player of all time.  And Atlanta and Philadelphia don’t seem to be able to capitalize on our bad fortune and you begin you “realize” that the Mets may win the NL East after all.  You see that even though yesterday you couldn’t imagine the Mets ever playing decent baseball again as long as you lived, it turns out that they are really very very good and all set to go back to their winning ways.  And so, like Emily Litella, you think to yourself:  “Never mind!”

This is how stupid we are.  Stupid on both ends.  We are stupid when we give up on our team and we are stupid when the evidence of one game makes us feel (whether or not we really believe) that we are coming out of the slump. 

It does no good to think that we should be more patient in the future.  We won’t be.  We won’t relax.  We will lose hope easily.  And we will be suckered back into hope just as easily.  If we lived our real lives like this, what would happen to us?  Uh.


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