Coming into this season, I expected a 70-75 win season, with Colby Rasmus cutting his teeth in center field and the Cards looking forward to the brighter days of a decent collection of young talent. It was sort of relaxing in a way – I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about the pennant race, wouldn’t have to watch the scoreboards, wouldn’t have to freak out about the team’s Pythagorean record……..I could just relax, watch baseball, and enjoy the wins.
Of course, these overachievers spoiled the dream. Last night, I realized what I realize at some point every year: I hate baseball. I hate watching it most of the time, because the result’s too important. If a win doesn’t provide an instant upgrade in the team’s chances (think a win over Chicago or Milwaukee), it’s very difficult to enjoy, since the next game is there immediately. Last night, the Cards won what should have been a thrilling game – homeruns from Ankiel and Ludwick (a moonshot, by the way), pitching out of jams, and a ninth inning save for Franklin facing Utley, Howard, and Burrell. I mean, what’s not to like?
Well, Chicago and Milwaukee had taken early leads, so the outcome of the game was basically a fight to keep what we already had. Franklin’s command issues, an alarming inability to get on base against good pitching…….all of this was perversely more relevant to what would happen over the next 2 1/2 months than to what was actually happening at the moment, which was a Cardinal victory. My father is sitting there, relishing the outs, and I’m thinking “shitty changeup……falling behind to Werth is a really bad idea……how the hell will we keep winning with seven baserunners in an entire game……five walks per nine with an ERA under three is unsustainable…..”
Sometimes, I like watching baseball. I like watching the Cards with a safe lead (say, seven to nine runs) and a dominating pitching performance. I can even enjoy baseball when the Cards are way behind and something good happens. But when the result matters, it’s pure misery, and I’ll never be happy as long as they matter.
So, for the rest of my life, I’ll be chasing my white whale, the only thing I’ve ever really cared about. An eleventh World Series for the greatest baseball town in the world, and a free ticket to feel no pain until the next season’s Opening Day. It was worth it in 2006, and maybe sometime in the next decade it will be worth it again.
July 12, 2008 at 4:39 pm
You summed up the feeling well, alas. I just know the Braves are going to do the same thing to me this year that they did last – come out playing well early, have a terrible June, mediocre July, stage a mini-comeback in August (getting within 2 games, or so), only to fold in the middle of September.
It really prevents me from enjoying the season. I can’t just sit back and watch the young guys, because they refuse to actually fall out of the race. But I can’t get excited over wins, either, because they sit at 5-8 games out even after the W.
It’s really the worst place to be.
And, yet, I keep coming back for more.
July 12, 2008 at 4:40 pm
By the way, I may take you up on the guest post sometime. I have some pretty strong feelings on the Favre situation, so if I can gather them into a coherent discourse, I’ll send it your way.
July 13, 2008 at 9:54 pm
Yep, there’s no mistress any more cruel than this one. Saturday night was terrible, today was just OK. It’s like being married to someone, but never really enjoying their company.
But there are those days that make it all worth it. And plus, as long as you care more about baseball than your own life, none of your failures ever matter
Send me a PM on TLS – I’ll set up an account for you on the blog and you can just post whenever, whatever you want.