To use a hackneyed cliche (and obviously not being beneath a bit of redundancy, either), “it is a marathon — not a sprint.”
‘IT,’ in this particular case, refers to the 162 games eventually played out during the course of about 180 days. To wit — a major league baseball season.
For those who can remember in six-month increments (thank goodness for the internet), when the Texas Rangers began the current marathon last April, most of us were really OK with the fact that we had all the way until October, and we would get to enjoy seeing Josh Hamilton break all kinds of records and setting a new high-bar for a Triple-Crown winner.
And with the pace the Rangers set, what an enormous amount of fun it would be to see the margin between Texas and the rest of the American League “Least” grow... and grow some more. (Crater, Angels. Crater!)
Come on, I wasn’t the only one with visions of a division clinch earlier than ever... or is everybody’s memory (or perhaps a consistently-good grip on tedious reality better than mine?
Of this keyboard pounding, the Rangers are up by three games with but five games left to decide three AL-East teams’ fate. And the rain is falling... just perfect. As if the apprehension is not already intense enough, there may be double headers in the near future.
Meanwhile, waiting for the bats of April to return, and ‘kind of’ still waiting for that shorter, playoff-calibre pitching rotation to emerge... Kind of? Seriously?
I don’t even want to think about watching the Cowboys do whatever it is they do (or whoever they really are from game-to-game) until this MLB mess has been settled. Well OK, maybe it’s not exactly a “mess.” Gotta kind of love it, especially since there’s no race in the National League.
But I don’t want to hear any more patient lectures about how the marathon is coming to closure. Take a deep breath and bang off the cleats... cuz, ‘tis a sprint now, ain’t it?