Rule 15c. Temporary Fan Status
Excepting the lovely company, Sunday was a wretched day. What the hell happened?! I could speculate, but there are far better people in this world to offer analysis and conjecture on the situation. The last thing anyone needs is another 2 bits tossed into the growing bank of Mets mockery.
There are a lot of things that go through one’s head when witnessing a collective meltdown of extraordinary players. Like all good fans, I feel the bizzaro need to take partial responsibility. In my heart, I know it has nothing to do with not wearing my number 7 jersey. It isn’t that I wasn’t listening to their games as regularly as I could have. It wasn’t hubris. I know better than to get cocky about the September play of my Mets. At some point, I need to let go and recognize that I had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Ordinarily, such a collapse would also signal the end of my baseball watching season. Like so many sore losers, I am not above storming out in a huff. I have no qualms about curling up into the fetal position until February. I take no issue with pouting my way out of a seriously depressing September of play.
Then again, there is always Rule 15c:
15c. If one of your best friends loves a certain team that has a chance to win a championship, and your team is out of the picture, it’s OK to jump on the bandwagon and root for his team to win it all. That’s acceptable. Like Temporary Fan status.
Thank God for Bill Simmons. As Chicago remains one of my truest loves, I want nothing more than a city of happiness. As I live in the heart of Cubby-dom, I will throw my windows wide and let the organ stylings of Gary Pressy fill my home. I will join my dearest of friends in their Cubs affection. I will don my Cubbie blue like our poseur of a mayor. I will humbly embrace my Temporary Fan status.
That is, until next spring.