SIGH

I've entered a period of melancholy over the Cubs.  I'm acting fitful, nervous, and generally unpleasant to be around.  More than usually superstitious, also; I actually believe that my watching the games is negatively affecting their performance.  From time to time I'll come out of my room and dart through the living room, glancing at the score without turning my head.  It's deeply absurd.  

Secretly, I believe that staying on top of our division, let alone anything beyond that, will require a genuine miracle.  I imagine something very Biblical; possibly Jesus will descend onto the field and bat for us.  I keep reminding myself of John Updike's matter-of-fact line from his essay Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu: "All baseball fans believe in miracles.  The question is, how many do you believe in?"  I just tore a piece of paper out of my notebook, wrote this down, and put it in my wallet, because I want to remember why I love baseball.  

Of course, on my better days, it also says a lot to me about the non-baseball parts of life.  (Also, I was just reminded that even if we don't get Jesus on the field or some other variation on what we're all hoping for, this season has already had lots of gorgeous baseball and quite a few of those moments that make you glad to be a fan despite everything.  I'm thinking especially of our first game with the Cardinals, after which I said to my parents, "Right now, I don't care what happens in the rest of the season.  Seeing that was enough," and meant it completely.  I was probably delirious.)  Unfortunately, the angry, screeching monkey that has currently replaced my normal personality doesn't think much of any of this.  Possibly a baseball break is in order.  

To end on a lighter note, I should add that the only person exempt from this angst is Mike Fontenot, who makes me as happy as ever.  As I told my friend J. last night, he reminds me of a character from a children's book.  Or in her more awesome words, "He's like the Teeny Little Super Guy who lives in a juice glass...but this one hits home runs!"  So I'm going to try to calm down, concentrate on my imaginary marriage to Little Mike, and hope that all will be well.