And I’m not talking about the good kind of a long weekend, either. As one of the resident heathens (i.e., non-Christians), I worked on both Friday and Monday. (Someone has to answer the phones while your Savior is risen, you know?) My weekend was as short as always….
No, my weekend was long in the bad sense: Nothing seemed to go my way. Because it was unseasonably cold and windy, I decided I should just hang out at home. Well, that doesn’t have to be so bad, right? I fired up the TV, and the computer, and settled in for some serious sports-viewing. In retrospect, though, I should’ve just read. Or cleaned the bathroom. (Actually, I really should’ve cleaned the bathroom. Try not to think about it, ok?)
On Saturday, I rooted for my Phillies and my Royals. Both teams lost. Again. And again. These teams have seriously struggled over the opening week, of course…. I switched over to watch the Masters (I don’t usually watch golf), and the golf course seemed to be beating all the golfers. Yikes.
Despite the Saturday ugliness, I woke up on Sunday feeling a little bit confident. I had the Malaysian Grand Prix ready for me on TiVo, and my Ferrari drivers surely weren’t going to let me down. Felipe Massa had the pole, and Kimi Räikkönen is surely the fastest driver on the Formula One circuit. Well, Massa lost the lead on the first lap (he’d finish fifth), and Räikkönen quickly slotted himself into third, never to challenge for the lead. Worse, Ferrari’s archrival, two-time world champion Fernando Alonso, went right to the lead and never faltered. It was a two-hour spanking for a Ferrari fan like me. Ouch.
From the Formula One, I moved back to baseball. And it was the same story. The Phillies lost. The Royals lost. The Royals lost in a particularly painful way, surrendering a 2-0 lead in the top of the ninth inning. Sigh.
The Masters didn’t treat me any better than the baseball had. When I tuned in, Tiger Woods was fighting off a bunch of, well, less-distinguished players for the title. For some reason, I decided that Woods should win, that it would cheapen the tournament to have one of the no-names take the title. Woods finished second, and the no-name winner managed to annoy me with some oily earnestness and Easter religiosity. Oof.
Of all my teams, only the Flyers won this weekend, on Sunday, and that game didn’t matter a single bit. With a loss the day before, the 2006-07 Flyers had already secured a place in history—as the franchises’s worst team ever.
That’s a lot of losing for one weekend, huh? I’ve actually started to wonder if following so many losing teams, particularly two losing baseball clubs over the course of what is a long season, might literally be a little bit depressing. Will I manage to find the joy in the small day-to-day “victories” amidst all the losses? Or am I going to feel like the world is clobbering me? Over and over and over again? I wonder.
Please, dear Royals. Please, dear Phillies. Can at least one of my teams get it together just a little bit?