Ahh! Ahh!! AHH!!!

I’m so depressed.

If you didn’t watch tonight’s game, here’s the brief summary. The Orioles threw away a three run lead at 5-2, to lose 5-10, giving away three runs, you guessed it, in the seventh, and to ensure our loss, another safety five runs in the eigth. That whole not losing in a humiliating way wasn’t working for us. We prefer the soul-crushing kind of losses. We helped Tampa achieve eight runs through stellar improvised pitching moves, such as the highly specialized “walk the batter,” “hit the batter,” and the “give the batter a three-run homer, or at least a solid hit deep into the outfield.” Sarfate pitched so many balls that the MLB reached a consensus to rename the pitch after him. Meanwhile in Seattle, the strike has been renamed “the Bedard.”

Do you know what I was thinking when the Os had the bases loaded in the seventh, was it, I’ve lost track the last two innings were so long? I was thinking, “Oh, poor Tampa Bay.” You see, having been there, the underdog, with bases loaded, so many times, I felt sorry for the Rays. Somehow, silly me, I thought we had a reasonable chance of winning against them tonight. Then there was Sarfate. Bless his heart.

And mine.

Dempsey’s Army is going to have his hands full looking at the pitching patterns tonight. Bad Sarfate. Bad Aquino. Bad…oh, I’ve blocked it out now.

It appears I have to return to some cheerful hobbies to get me through games like this, like picking up the serial killer investigation again. Or jabbing sharp needles repeatedly into my eyeballs. That should be less painful.

I haven’t given up the faith though. Developing my denial muscles, I am. Hopefully, Trembley will taser Sarfate (and Aquino) tonight and he’ll develop and grow. We learn from each loss.

(I can only keep this up for a few more days.)

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