The disappointment spiral continued when I got off work. I was in time to see the latter third of the game, and, um, was not impressed. Verlander's pitch count climbed to dizzying heights, and when I saw 118 I got trigger finger for the panic button. Tigers relievers struggled to throw strikes, and the results were like "pow!" Grandy launched a blast that struck the innermost chamber of every Tiger fan's heart. To see him frolic in the dugout in pinstripes, ugh, it was scalding to my eyeballs. Wild pitches led to baserunners advancing and scoring, and I found myself writhing with worry as the count repeatedly went 3-0.
I kept telling myself not to get all twisted. It's one game. One of 162. Don't be a fool. Histrionics would be childish. Don't act like some fangirl whose emotions are tossed about with every pitch.
Here's the problem. I found myself in a genuine funk. I hate losing in the Bronx. I loathe feeling overmatched by the Yanks. Moreover, I felt like we had prepared well in Spring Training. I was ready for us to come charging out of the gate, not faltering and falling short.
Sigh. Shake it off. Implement the buddy system. Hang out with someone who clings to the positive, like how Justin Verlander threw a change with wicked movement to strike out Jorge Posada to end the sixth and how Ryan Raburn made a spectacular diving catch to shut my mouth about his shoddy defense.
Let's change the subject. Rogo of DesigNate Robertson invited me to play over/under with him. Get your minds out of the gutter, people. We predicted results in various statistical categories. Check out our sooth-saying here, and use it for your sports betting. Rogo just read all my answers and copied them, but give it a look just the same.