Before I get to the real cause to my grief, I should point out that I’ve been told at approximately 11am today, we will know if Felix Hernandez is the Cy Young Award Winner or if I need to compile a “Baseball Writers To Murder” list calm down and just breathe.
This is a big day. Probably the biggest day we’ve had since this day. That being the day we not only heard about Jake Locker’s intention to return for his senior season, but also the day the Mariners traded for Cliff Lee. December 14, 2009. Such pride! Such hope! Such promise for a couple of outstanding seasons ahead! Seattle was back in business with nowhere to go but up!
And then the Mariners sucked a lot of dick. 101 dicks, to be exact. But that was all right! Because we still had Husky football! We still had Jake Locker and Year 2 with Sark!
And then the Huskies went down to BYU and sucked a lot of dick. And there would be plenty more where that came from (no pun … ok, pun intended).
All hope isn’t quite lost, but it’s getting there. Pretty much, we’ve rolled that toothpaste tube as tight as it’ll go; the final remaining breath of hope is being squeezed out onto the toothbrush tonight for a 5pm game on a Thursday Night where we’re looking at near-freezing temperatures and a crowd of 30,000? 40,000? MAYBE approaching 50,000 sometime in the second quarter when everyone has pulled their heads completely out of their asses and figured out how to get to the stadium on a weeknight.
So much negativity being spread like syphilis around this town right now I can hardly stand it. That’s what you get with expectations as high as we had, then promptly turn around and start out 3-6. But this is a very winnable game! This is UCLA, UCLA sucks, ergo we should motherfucking win this shit!
Of course, I could say the same thing about Felix and the Cy Young. He’s worthy, he deserves to win it, and he motherfucking SHOULD win this shit!
Two things Locker and Felix have in common: shitty teams around them, and they deserve much better than what they were dealt.
Today could either be orgasmic or blue-balltastic. There’s no middle ground here. We’ll find out at 11 this morning what we’re going to get for tonight.