|Faith no more
||[May. 14th, 2010|12:15 am]
It's it, what is it?
In a word, excruciating. If I recall correctly, baseball is a game, and games are supposed to be fun. This isn't fun. This is masochism.
That's not to say that this team doesn't have its purpose. Of course it does. For example, if I want to enjoy myself, have a good time, and forget about my cares for awhile, I'll balance my checkbook. Maybe assess my finances, research IRAs. Clean out my car. Sit in the garage for awhile with the motor running. But if I'm in the mood to spend three hours being slowly demoralized, losing hope in humanity, letting waves of despair wash over me like an endless ocean of suffering... Why, I'll certainly tune in to some Giants baseball. I can think of no better way to get my fix of misery.
I'm going to tomorrow night's game. The two giveaways are a sake glass and a scarf. (And Wellemeyer's the probable starter, so there'll be plenty of free bases for some lucky Astros as well.) It's all part of a promotion package wherein you cope with the disappointment by getting absolutely plastered, and then hanging yourself. Our lineup may be brain dead, but our marketing execs are geniuses.