So a friend(?) of mine sent me this today, reminding me of something of which I didn't want to be reminded.
Which is: There's actually a magic number now for my Pittsburgh Pirates to clinch a winning season for the first time in more than two decades.
Nine wins to go. That's it, boys and girls. Nine ... long ... agonizing ... one-at-a-time wins.
And so now, of course, being the thorough neurotic I am, I immediately start wondering how terrible it would be if the Bucs would get it down to one more win and then, you know, stall out. Dither. Futz around. Lose a game, another game, another, the tension growing, the baseball gods laughing until celestial tears squirt from their eyes as they hold it out there and yank it away, hold it out there and yank it away ...
Although the picture of Maz is cool.