You may have noticed that life is rich with tragedies large and small, and it can be hard to tell the difference.
The loss of a job, a bad breakup, a nervous collapse: Where do these fall on the spectrum? Is there any way of knowing? Does it all depend on where they lead; on what comes next?
So goes my thought process as I make the routine mistake of googling my beloved New York Metropolitans. Record: seven wins, 16 losses, the worst in the National League. Last 10 games: zero wins, 10 losses. Payroll: $370 million, the second-highest in baseball.
My favorite player, Pete Alonso? He’s slugging for the Baltimore Orioles now. Big Pete, bullied as a child, a great beauty at the plate, had spent his entire career in the Mets organization and last year set the team’s all-time record for most home runs. He was a hero to the fans. But the Mets are the Mets, so they just let him go in free agency without a fight.
Brandon Nimmo, my second-favorite player? The good news is that he’s the best hitter on the team. The bad news is the team is the Texas Rangers. The Mets traded him away for Marcus Semien, who is barely hitting at all.
This brings me to the real question: Why am I doing this to myself?
Maybe it’s because baseball breaks my heart in a way I can handle.
