The Church of Uribe Down, Scientist

Be seated.

It has come to my attention that there are other, inferior churches where you have been devoting your time and wasting your thoughts and energy. Blind faith can be useful, yet is the cause of much trouble. Raised expectations invariably lead to crushed hopes; there was nothing to be done for this season. The writing was on Die Mauer from that one game that they lost by one run, and late. We’re dealing with reasonable, level-headed gods here, gentlemen and token lady friends. This is despite what ignoble preachers have lead you to believe. There is no duping in baseball; just the willful misinterpretation of talent and resources, combined with your lack of faith and attendance. The gods have given us Rey Olmedo. They bequeathed upon us a semi-productive Larry Wise, pitching both for and against us. Orlando Hudson did not hit a grand slam in our favor by some mysterious error; within ironic displays of gross competence lies inherent design. Jose Lopez was the undeniable keystone, and should have had at least one more plate appearance. In these talents and acts we have lessons, of which we choose to learn or disregard.

You are grieving, and in need of comfort. In this, too, remains a lesson.

I can comfort you. I can learn you.

This will not be an easy process. Breathe, and settle on the disappointment and the pain. Embrace it, like the cold of a beer on a sunny afternoon, immediately before the game. Let it flow through you, like a ball under the legs of our dear catcher. Release it, finally, as a power-draining bone chip. Sleep on it. Pick another team for the next month, or don’t. Love the desolate winter as a blank canvas, necessarily supplying the dangerous hope of a new and glorious spring. Again, I see you recklessly embracing that danger in the name of True Fandom. Do with that what you will, yes; we will cross that bridge together when it comes.

Comfort lies in appreciating the game. You don’t want to hear that, but it’s the secret that solicitors have known since before the End Times. It’s one prayer you’ve been avoiding for weeks, months. With this mantra, we can cleanse the lepers. We can cast out the demons. We’re having a harder time raising the dead, but front-office types have surely tried. Oh, and the sick... well, they’re hopeless. We don’t want the sick. We want the sick only as dead, to be reborn with promise and the correct application of zealotry.

With reflection we can understand. We can bring ourselves to peace, to clarity. We can explore our own depth, as the team that leads us to Salvation was so unable to do themselves. You can change churches, sure, with all conditions of ill-advisement, but to change teams is a risk and dishonor few would attempt to navigate.

And so! Hark! Buy your season ticket plans for next year at the earliest possible date, at
White Stockings dot com. We can calmly rest the wreath of disappointment on the Ottoman of the Lazy and Cheap, but if your ass does not meet green stadium seat in 2013, we then shall know the address of Blame.

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