Couple thoughts here in order to avoid blogging about baseball, which is a felony this far South

I fell asleep during Game 7 in ‘91. Receiving the news the following Sunday morning shaped how I view sports to this day: you effort to find joy in the process before the process invalidates that effort

I’ve kept my kids up very late multiple nights this week. Last year my then 5yr old wept inconsolably during Game 5 vs St Louis. Maybe the weight of this investment is not something I want to pass on.

They’re gonna lose tonight. This is not nihilism or anger; it’s learned cognitive behavior. Reflexive. And if they don’t lose tonight they’ll lose badly next week.

They’re a young team with their prime ahead of them who weren’t supposed to be here After Soroka and Hamels et al. Then they got up 3-1 and we all started asking why we can feel like a darling just once

But if you’re an Atlanta sports fan you are weighted with not only the pain of that effort, but the indignity. We are nobody’s darlings. This is not a sympathetic or stylish status

I’ve been wearing my grandfather’s Braves hat all week. He was born in Michigan and dropped out of Stanford to fight Nazis and decades later ended up an Atlantan like so many folks. And he died in his chair watching the Braves three months before the 1995 World Series

Post 28-3, I fully expect not to see another Atlanta title until something that bad happens to me again, and that is absolutely miserable. That is mental illness.

Anyway, my kids are going to bed at 730. Just because I can’t stop carrying this weight doesn’t mean they have to.

Go Braves.