Dear God, Jesus, Buddah, Shiva, (yes, even you Allah), Odin, Zeus, The ghost of John Wayne, Chuck Norris, The Great Pumpkin, Uncle Drayton, Ed Wade, and whomever else it may concern:
I don't ask much. In fact, I don't blog much, either. Yet here I am, ready to beg. Literally, beg.
Okay, here goes: Please.....I mean it, PLEASE......Please do not let us become the cellar dwellers of the entire league. Look, I know the season is only 6 games old. I know there is a ton of baseball left to play. It's just that I've spent season after season either celebrating success or at least taking comfort in the fact that we weren't the Nationals. Or the Orioles. Or the Pirates. Or the Royals.
Even the Orioles have won a game. I mean, come on-the last time the Orioles were competitive Cal Ripken had dark hair. I'm fairly certain they won't be very competitive this year either, yet at this very moment their fans are saying to themselves, "Well, at least we aren't the Astros". This, dear deities, is unacceptable.
Please understand: I tempered my expectations for the season. I, for one, was unwilling to drink the Kool-Aid(tm) flavored with the fruity taste of perhaps-they'll-surprise-us-all-and-make-a-run-at-the-playoffs. Instead, I dared hope for a generous helping of mediocrity flavored with signs of improvement for the future. I still hold plenty of hope for at least that. But what's going on right now....is frightening me already.
So all I am asking is for one of you to intervene on our behalf. I don't care how. You can call Jimmy Wynne out of retirement for all I care. I leave that up to you. Just know that seeing a zero in the leadoff spot of our win/loss record is making me physically ill.
My kids need me to be a healthy, happy father. So please make it stop.