Humans could be immortal if we weren't sports fans. I use last year's American League playoffs and this year pennant race as examples of how each at bat in each game steals a little bit of our lifes energy from us.
The emotional roller coaster of being down three games to none and then rising from the dead to defeat the Bronx Bombers left most of us in Sox Nation fully exhausted. Thankfully we were revived by a vanquishing of the Cardinals in four games. While we revived, the Yankee fans suffered a winter of ignominious defeat which probably contributed to a decline in their physical and mental health.
It seemed so short a time to bask in the glory of our first win in 8 plus decades then we were thrust into another season. It began with great expectations of a possible repeat when suddenly the pitching ace and the closer were knocked out of action. The early season cockiness soon dissolved into day to day fretting.
As the interminable season wore on confidence returned as the Sox pulled as far away as 4 plus games ahead of the Yankees. This state of euphoria evaporated when Shaughnessey of the Globe committed an unforgivable sin by declaring the Yankees dead and that the Sox would waltz home to the American League championship. The baseball gods responded not only by tying up the race but also throwing the wild card in question by reviving the Cleveland Indians.
So here we are after 157 games of a 162 game schedule with three teams tied for only two spots. The Sox have two more games with the Blue Jays and then the Bombers are in town for the final three games of the season. In all likelihood the season will come down to the last pitch, in the last game on the last day of the season.
I already have chest pain.
