Pedro!

Been pretty busy lately, trying to save the world and all. Or at least the country that seems to be at the center of all of the world's conflicts - past, present, and probably but hopefully not future.

I was thinking about the season and how I haven't been to a baseball game since the Reds came to Washington at the beginning of June - no wait, Randy Johnson's 300th, whichever came last - and how this is pretty new to me, this not paying attention to baseball, and it really makes me quite sad.

You know about my trip, but that was only two weeks, and it was in July and this is now September and it's cold and gray and the leaves are shaking with September's sad song and there's a sort of violence on the television screens that acts as The Sport and all of the color is starting to drain from the world.

I hate it.

I hate it because September baseball has been meaningless for me for the past decade. Sure, you get to see all the rookies take a few swings and all, but for far too long we've held out hope in those guys and nothing ever comes of it.

I saw this guy in the Metro this morning wearing a Reds hat and jersey - a real fan, not wearing it just for the colors - and I said "nice shirt" and he said "I'm going to see Adam Dunn tonight" and I said "Me too!" But I lied. I'm not going to see Dunn. I'm going to see Pedro. Dunn isn't Dunn with that Natinals stitched upon his chest. No, Dunn was in the wrong uniform all season and his real team scored fewer runs than everyone else in baseball.

Ah, remember the days when Dunn and Kearns were the future, back when "wait til next year" actually meant something...

Well, Reds, I'm not waiting anymore. I haven't given you a dime since that last time I saw you lose in DC when it was still spring and you still had a winning record. I knew even then it wouldn't last. I have watched a handful of games on television since then. I'm not sure you won even one of them.

So I'm going to a baseball game tonight, and I'm going to see a GOOD team play with a future Hall of Famer taking the mound in a funny colored uniform. It's a cold and gray day, a rotten vegetable of a day, just like the taste baseball has left in my mouth this season.
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Oh boy, here we go. 2009, meet 2008 and 2007 and 2006 and 2005 and 2004 and 2003 and 2002 and 2001...

Merde. It seems their is no end to the destitution from which one suffers as a Reds fan, no light at the end of the tunnel, no oasis in the desert of our discontent. No, we have done something to the baseball gods for which we must suffer eternal punishment, committed some atrocious act that has stripped us from divine favor. But what was it? How did we offend thee, oh gods of the diamond? How did we, who once were smiled upon by thee, who witnessed the Big Red Machine, who started this whole business of professional baseball in the first place, how did we fall from your grace, oh holy lords of the ballyard?

Jerry Hairston, Jr. as the starting shortstop? Really?

What the heck happened to Alex Gonzalez?

Was it really so tough to get a real shortstop like say, Furcal or Greene or anyone who is an actual shortstop and who is an actual starter?

Our offseason thus far: David Weathers, Ramon Hernandez, Arthur Rhodes, Willy Taveras, and Jerry Hairston, Jr. That's a winning team, isn't it? Ugh.

Nine losing seasons in a row - that's long enough to miss an entire generation of new Reds fans. Just think of years age 2 through 11 or 3 through 12. Those are the formative years. Those are the years you lay down your roots, lay down your loyalty, become a diehard fan who will never walk away despite the torture of the Eric Miltons and Joe Mays of the world sitting fat on your roster. But what kid wants to become a fan of a team who always loses? What kid has the patience to hear stories of past glories while the current roster kicks balls around the field? Baseball has to compete with the likes of Pokemon and video games and the NFL for the attention of kids these days. To perennially not field a team capable of staying in contention through a whole season is death to the fanbase.

Why, baseball gods, have you forsaken us?
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Further into the abyss...

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Exactly. There is nothing to say.
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