A View from the Evening

Taken from my prison cell. I am incarcerated by Disappointment. My crime? Believing the Reds would get to the playoffs this year.

Anticipation has a habit of setting you up for disappointment, doesn't it? I thought for sure I'd see the start of something beautiful - one of those mythical things called a winning streak - when I entered Great American Ball( )Park on Monday. It certainly seemed that way with a 4-2 lead going into the 8th, a red-capped crowd cheering for the Reds instead of against them like I am used to.

Things that happened at the game:

• Met Ashlee, sukr, and JCH888 at the game - always disconcerting to meet folks you've known through internet chatter for awhile because they look like real people instead of just words on a screen. I half expected them to have lighted square heads with letters running across their faces! Ha, ha!
  

• Didn't get Skyline because all but one of the stands were closed, and that one had a mile-long line. Some people several rows in front of us missed what seemed like half a game getting their three ways. I ended up buying five cans at a Kroger in St. Clairsville, the last city along I-70 before you hit West Virginia. Guess I'll have some of it for dinner this week.

• Bonds got booed, but not as loudly as I expected. And I cheered when he came up to bat. Don't tell sukr, though, that I secretly cursed Bonds when he hit the game tying shot that hurt mini-Griffey.

• Why is the Fowl Pole serving only beer instead of chicken? And why was half of the beer out when it was only the fourth inning? And why were half of the employees standing around chatting in the back while we were missing a whole inning waiting in line? And why were there jerks buying Miller Piss and Crud Light at the Fowl Pole when they can buy that crap anywhere, but those of us with taste buds who only have a few places to buy beer have to wait for them, too? I don't mind the few places, but the budless ones need to stay in their own lines!

• Saw Moises sitting his lazy butt down in the bullpen during pitching changes. I know the guy's like 800, but come on. He's leaving the field of play during an inning - isn't that against the rules? Bonds didn't have to go sit in the bullpen with his legs up, and he's pretty much walking on slabs of pain.

• What's with the pathetic crowd on a holiday, some 25K? Yeah, there was an apocalyptic road trip that just happened, but there is still hope. Or was before the Giants series opened that little box of Pandora's.

There are nine Appalachian hours between here and the ballpark, but I can feel the depressing wind blowing off the Ohio as I finish watching the Reds lose the second of three games to the Giants. I know the Reds are done. Reason and logic tell me so. But I'm one of those people who won't turn off a game even if they're down 9-0 in the ninth, unless it is after midnight on the West Coast and I can't keep my eyes open. These last two weeks, though, well, I wish my eyes would have been closed for them, because watching is painful, and I've since been imprisoned by my gloom.

(5 million bonus points if you get the reference in the title and in the post.)