You don’t want to get your hopes up, but you refuse to wallow in pessimism. You feel your heart leap with every bit of good news, and your stomach fall with every thing bad. You suffer from uncontrolled smiling and from random shivering. You declare you can’t watch the games, then wind up doing it anyway.
Yep, must be September.
It’s the 23rd today. The Autumnal Equinox has just passed, and we’re standing at the precipice of not only the playoffs but within hailing distance of winter. Being a baseball fan is like having some form of seasonal affective disorder, with irrational glee every spring, then (most years) glum resignation as the 162-game countdown finally runs out.
If your team is lucky, you get to play more games after that.
If your team is really lucky, you play in the last game of the playoffs.
If your team is astoundingly lucky, you win that last game.
See, there goes that shivering again.
The Dodgers have six more games to determine if they get to play more. They must cobble together some combination of five wins or Diamondback losses between tonight and Sunday to keep playing in October. They play three games against the Padres and three against the Giants, both of whom would simply adore destroying Dodger hopes and dreams this year.
There are wars and rumors of wars. The American economy is doing its best impression of a beached whale. Plagues of locusts and frogs are raining down across the land, and there’s probably some giant meteoroid headed our way.
Never mind all that. This is important.
You don’t want to watch.
But you will.
