Perspective On Trial: Chronicles of A Recovering Bad Loser

So, the universe tested my resolve fairly quickly. No sooner did I sit down with a cookie than I saw Buster Posey take a called strike three on a full count, while the Giants trailed the Padres 3-1, a deficit they would not close. The pitch looked, shall we say, just a bit wide, in the same sense that the Pacific Ocean is just a bit damp.

Keep in mind that I was alone in the house. So, I'm pleased with myself that all I said was: "Huh. Interesting." The Giants' play-by-play announcers, who are totally more objective than most other announcers I've seen, were dubious that it crossed the plate, but said it was probably too close to take, so we'll leave it at that.

Oh, well. We'll get the Padres tomorrow, or not.

I've decided, also, that the key to keeping cool is to not read Internet chat rooms. There are plenty of insightful, articulate comments, but there are a lot of people who use the anonymity of the Internet to let fly with vitriol, abuse, smack talk, horrific grammar, and all-around misery. And those are some of the so-called Giants fans. I'm not even talking about the people who spend a lot of time commenting on soccer articles with remarks about how boring and what a waste of time they find soccer.

Tim Lincecum forbid that I act in real life like the trolls do online.

I should watch the Ken Burns documentary again, or re-read Summer Of '49. That's the way to swaddle myself in historical context and the greater poetry of the game, and think about last fall, and dream about tomorrow.