Rain Delays and Mondays Always Get Me Down

Does anyone else sniff conspiracy? Cleveland was down one in this game. I know that's close, but do you think they wanted to resume play tonight? No. They want a coveted do-over. Fine. They got it. I hope we stomp them 20-0 in the make up game. OK. Maybe that's just the disappointment talking. But isn't it irksome to start a game, get half way through with a lead (slim as it may have been) and then just have it all unceremoniously erased like an end of the day chalkboard?

Both starters got chased out of this game in the third inning......um, ouch. Bonderman gave up an early solo shot to Sizemore and then looked ok, until Cleveland ripped off, what was it, four, five, six straight hits, including a three run dinger to a struggling Travis Hafner? Does it matter now that this partial game has been wiped off the books as if it had never been played? Sigh.

I give. I should just stop typing right now and go to sleep. Why swim in a sea of self-pity over a single regular season game getting postponed? I don't know! I'm a masochist, what can I say? Perhaps more accurately, I am a spoiled brat who can't stand to go two days without a game of baseball being completed. Well now. At least I'm honest.

In case you're concerned, I just checked Cleveland's forecast for tomorrow and mercifully it looks as if there's a pretty good chance of the game being played to a full nine innings. Also, I did verify availability of a bed at a local mental health facility, since my sanity seems to be rather absurdly dependent on baseball being played.

Delayed Gratification

Today should have been my first day at the ballpark for the 2009 season.  I was at the park, however briefly, before the postponement was announced.  That only made matters worse--being there, and then being unceremoniously kicked to curb.  Now, some bloggers point out that today's day without ball is a fitting tribute to the great Mark Fidrych.  I would beg to differ and say that it would've been a more appropriate nod to the Bird to have played the game.  

In any event, I wanted to wail with abandon when the PPD was announced.  You know, like when someone ruthlessly snatches a baby's favorite toy, and she just lets loose, no holding back, snot and tears everywhere.  It's gotta be cathartic to just get it all out of your system and move on like that.  I had to quell the tightening in my throat and act like a grown up.  My mood only grew fouler as I boarded the Nemo's bus and sat staring bleakly out the window at the renovated Westin.  My baseball-lingo-challenged husband texted me and thought that postponed meant rain delay.  He finally got the message when I texted back that "PPD means canx, u idiot!"  The aforementioned mood sunk even further as I drove home faced with the steely gray horizon and the unrelenting drizzle.

Into a sullen funk I slid, and there I stay for an indeterminate period.  I don't have tickets to another game until May 4.  Should any crazed Tiger fan have to wait that long to see a game?  I hope you'll agree that it would be a tragedy of immeasurable proportions.  I'll just have to score some Yankees tickets, that's all there is to it.