I have to admit, the Diamondbacks starting the season 1-7 has taken more of an affect on me than I had expected. I’ve been in baseball long enough to know that the baseball season is a marathon and not a sprint so I get that a slow spot does not necessarily mean that the season will continue in a perpetual death spiral.
As I read the comments on social media and hear the fans sitting around me proclaiming the sky is falling in their best Chicken Little impersonations I tend to chuckle and suggest they might want to add 1-800-SUICIDE to their cellphones to get help before taking a step off the ledge.
Oh sure it would be great to have the team 7-1 instead of 1-7 and things tend to work themselves out and teams that start out hot will ultimately cool off and those on a cold stretch will heat up. If the final two seasons have taught us anything its that things will even out, literally.
I thought I had perfected the even keel mentality and was prepared to weather this current storm of dire game results. A quick shrug of the shoulders and looking ahead at the schedule always gave me hope that things will work out. At least that is what I was telling my conscious self. My sub-conscious had another viewpoint it wanted to express.
After last night which saw the Diamondbacks give up another lead ending with another loss I went to bed thinking that tomorrow was another day. At some point in the middle of the night my subconscious decided to express its feelings on the season.
Instead of dreaming about fulfilling items on my bucket list I had one of the strangest dreams in a long time. No this one did not include being dressed in sun god robes where women dressed like Princess Leia in her Jabba the Hut slave costumes throwing little hot dogs at me but it was still pretty weird.
I was walking along an endless concourse in the bowels of some unnamed stadium searching for Sedona Red cotton candy when out of nowhere I ran into Diamondbacks CEO/President Derrick Hall who was standing in line ordering 3 Bat Dogs and a Venom Dog. I couldn’t help but wonder why a vegetarian was ordering four hot dogs.
We stopped and talked at the condiment station and he invited me back to his seats to watch the reminder of the game. But instead of going down to the seats next to the Diamondbacks dugout we were headed to the upper deck where we had seats in row four.
The seats were gigantic. I felt like a little kid, my legs would not even touch the floor the seats were so big. I sat next to Derrick’s wife who was wearing a Vanna White dress and kept waving at the players like Barbie in a Rose Bowl Parade. Derrick sat three seats away eating the three Bat Dogs with a Venom Dog chaser.
I turned to watch the game. Brandon McCarthy was pitching and every pitch was exactly the same. I kept yelling to throw the “piss-hard fast rock” but no matter what he threw the pitch was hit into the stands as a home run. The scoreboard was spinning like a slot machine.
Next thing I knew Derrick’s wife had turned into Racing Gracie who would stand up and dance to “What Does the Fox Say” while McCarthy continued to throw home run after home run.
I woke up in a cold sweat and my pillow is missing. I have no idea where it went and I’m afraid to go back to sleep. I’m not sure which nightmare is more frightening the one I just had or the 1-7 start to the season and I still have no idea what the fox says.