Six Errors, Eleven Walks, and a Phillies Sweep at Shea

What do you want me to say?

What do you have to say?

Just scroll back through my archives and find any of the posts I wrote after they suddenly started playing badly after they were playing well.

And then in a few days when they start playing well, you can scroll back and find one of the posts I wrote after they started playing well after they had played badly.

I’ve run out of metaphors.  Do you want me to say that they are like a car that runs smoothly and then sputters and almost breaks down an then starts running well again?  Do you want me to say that they go in and out of the Bizarro world?  Do you want me to compare them to the Allies in WWII?  To a book whose pages turn?  I’m not going to do it, folks.  I’ve already done it.  I’m not going to do it again.

Sit there.  Watch the TV.  Listen to the radio.  Schlep out to Shea.  Whatever is going to happen is going to happen.  I’ve got no control.  I’ve got plenty of faith.  I’ve got as much confidence as it makes sense to have.  Not a lot.  Not a little.  We’re all here together.  And we will live through whatever happens in the next six weeks.  Our circulatory, digestive, and nervous systems are not going to enjoy themselves.  But we will, right?  Why else would we be paying attention?  This is fun, right?  This is meaningful to us, right?  Right.  Whatever.
 

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