So I'm sitting at the Quaker Steak and Lube in Richmond last night, killing a ton of all you can eat wings with my young friend Michael, also my frequent travel partner to Nats Park.
We're having a grand time. We discussed the future of the Nats (both of us very pessimistic), how the team could be near the end of year six and offer maybe less hope than it did five years ago, upcoming trips to New York and things to do there, some old man's reluctance (cough cough) to try anything testier than mild sauce and much, much more.
We have Phils-Braves on one of the TVs, Yankees-Rays on another and of course, we're the only people in there who ask for a Nats-Astros broadcast. Pennant fever all around us and we're watching this game?
But the eighth inning was fun and Pudge hit a home run and the Nats won and it dawned on me. That's No. 63!! Yee-haa. High fives all around. The team can't lose 100 again (well, not this year. It darn sure can and probably will lose 100 again).
This is what makes me happy these days. I'm looking at four teams on two other TVs that are going to the playoffs, four teams with brighter presents and probably brighter futures than our beloved Nats. And I'm wet-my-pants thrilled that my team isn't going to lose 100 for the third year in a row.
I am one sick man and I am in need of serious help.
I should have asked for a side of glass with those wings.