A friend of mine and I were talking yesterday about someone who is going through a terrible, unjust and tragic situation in their life.
"When I see someone who suffers like that, sometimes I fall back on New-Agey past-life and pseudo Zen-Buddhist beliefs," I said. "Like, the ideas that say that people on some other astral plane choose their lives in order to learn something...I guess the only way you cope with stuff like that is thinking, well maybe there's a reason for it, and maybe there's a purpose."
"I know," she said. "But I could never go all in for stuff like that. I could never really devote myself to a belief like that...there was always a question that was left unanswered."
"Yep," I nodded. "If you keep asking, 'well, why?' pretty soon you get to the unanswerable question, and then you're back to Square One."
"Right," she said. "And that's when people just tell you, 'well, you just have to believe in it'. And that's usually where I just don't follow."
"Me either," I said. I paused for a minute or two while we smoked cigarettes together.
"Only thing I can believe in like that is the Red Sox," I said.
The Onion has a fantastic article up in its sports section today:
"I know that the ordeal is over now, and I'm aware that this sort of thing happens to baseballs every day, but Doug Mientkiewicz took a part of me that I will never get back," said the scuffed, dirty ball, which will be restored to its original condition by trained professionals in the coming weeks. "Mr. Mientkiewicz absconded with me, and brought me into a world of lies and deception for his own petty financial gain. He locked me inside a small box for months at a time for what he called 'safe keeping.' I can tell you, there is nothing safe about darkness."
Oh, and that game last night? Sucked, huh.