...And Now They're Comin' Aftah Me
As if you needed further proof that the Bush Administration is evil...
I can say with all honesty that I've never been more ill at ease, confused, and depressed by what is going on around me. I held out hope that baseball would be the one place where I could find a little of paradise lost, but I should have known better. We are what we are. --BCDifferent people are handling this differently (Nfld Sox Fan still insists this is the year), but the general consesus whatever your coping strategy is that things are falling apart.
As Makkie04 put it on the Survivinggrady.com comments section:
I can't remember the bus ever going off the cliff this early in the season...at least this frees up the rest of the summer....wake me when it's over..........Now I know why my father had that glazed over eye look......
It's not just that they lost, but how they lost. And it's not just that they've been losers on the field, but they've been losers off the field this season as well. Dirt Dogs is reporting the following scene from the locker room:
Later, there was a half-serious confrontation between Jason Varitek and Curt Schilling about why Schilling blew off the pre-series pitchers' meeting, in which opposing hitters are discussed. That Schilling isn't pitching either of the next two games was no excuse, for Varitek or Schilling.
When Schilling tried to take the offensive, Varitek reasonably wondered why the guy who missed the meeting was the one raising his voice. The historic visual of "25 players, 25 cabs" was fresh in anyone's mind who witnessed this scene.
Sadly, it seems like baseball is more important to the fans right now than it is to the guys who play.
I think this is happening for two reasons. First, I think the first few months of this season have been a way to coast along and try and escape the memory of last October 16. The pain most of us are feeling now is continuing fallout from that game, not from the game last night.
Second, I think that what Ed points out, that baseball is supposed to be a blissful retreat from the evils of the world, represents a loss for us if the bus is truly going off the cliff as Makkie says. What else is there to watch on television? U.S. Marines being beheaded?
Pain surrounds us. Pain is our atmosphere.
And so what is there to do? Maybe it's for the best that the rest of our summer looks to be relatively free. Maybe it's for the best that we can't stick our heads in the sand anymore as world events continue to deteriorate.
Alex Belth had an interesting post the other day about the eerie coincidences involved in the Yankees' loss to the Arizona Diamondbacks in the 2001 World Series:
The Yankees' victory parade in the city was canceled, and Enrique Wilson, the Yankees' utility infielder, changed his flight back to the Dominican Republic. The plane Wilson was initially scheduled for-American Airlines Flight 587-crashed in Queens, killing all 260 passengers.
Wilson saw Rivera the next spring, and they talked about the twist of fate. If Rivera had closed out the Diamondbacks in the bottom of the ninth of Game 7, Wilson would have, in all likelihood, been on the plane that went down. For Rivera, this was further confirmation that he and his teammates were all subject to God's will. "I'm glad we lost the World Series," Rivera said, "because it means that I still have a friend."
It's confession time: I'm an atheist. I believe that the universe turns on its own creaky, random hinges, and there is no sovereign figure watching over each of our little lives. At best, I'm a Deist--I concede there may have been some creative intelligence at one time. But certainly not now.
Actually, I take solace in the idea that things happen for no reason whatsoever. Isn't it better to believe that events are a matter of physics, cold mathematical laws colliding, than the punishment or reward of some arbitrary deity? Isn't it better to deal with the frustration of undeserved disaster than to try to wrap your mind around the idea that it was deserved? Because where do you draw the line with that?
But every so often, though, since I was raised Christian, I fall back into my old beliefs, my own childhood imaginings that a big white-bearded man sits on a big throne up in the sky and looks down and calls the shots.
And for those few moments, I can see how maybe this is all for the best.