Baseball Gravity

Sometimes I feel more like Icarus than Daedalus, especially on hot, shirt drenching August days when the clouds refuse to break even though their teasing presence cuts the light out of the sky. Everything seems to be going well, I'm escaping with my wax wings, but I get too greedy, I want too much, and then I feel like I'm tumbling into the sea.

Two Three losses in a row, coupled with two three Deadbirds wins, and it feels like the Reds are spiraling down with me, or perhaps I am spiraling down with them. The West Coast has more sun than most of the country over the course of the year, and it definitely affects the Reds every season, melts their wax a bit. Unequivocally, as Marty would say.

It feels like the Deadbirds, who seem to have natural wings and don't have to worry about the sun, have a huge advantage over us. With Albert "Pegasus" Pujols and Chris "Aello" Carpenter, they can fly to the West Coast, the East Coast, or Cornville and still be safe from the sun.

Of course, this is all overreaction, panic! at the ballpark, right? We still have a month left of the season, the Reds are streaky, and the Deadbirds aren't a good team, despite the individuals they have fluttering through the late summer sky. And baseballs are just balls of thread encased with a leather cover, right? So maybe we don't need wings at all, we can just follow that thread right out of the maze. Now, does anyone see any golden bridles laying around?

Sometimes I think it'd just be easier to be eaten by the Minotaur, like we have been for the past several years. Then we wouldn't have to fear the heartbreak that could result from a fatal fall.