/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/60532433/167232372.0.0.0.jpg)
So there's another game today. Another game against Milwaukee. Another game where a win signifies a series split and a constant entropic flow back towards .500.
Sigh.
There is a lot of literary bloviation that imagines baseball as metaphoric for life, and it's moments like this that I kind of wish the metaphors were a little less compelling. The 162 game season is a persistent slog, albeit often an enjoyable one, and when the analogies all end up looking like "x is just like a marathon; is like putting one foot in front of the other; is like a regression to the mean," you can start to see why its analogy to a human life is more wistful than winsome.
Still, we press on, boats against the current. It's possible, anyway, that today will be another victory -- for the Phillies and for you. And don't forget: in the long calculus of the thing, even an oppressive baseball season is a majestic and wonderful thing. It's certainly true also of life. That's the flipside to the sad analogy: it's reversible.
Discuss tropes and my disconcerting turn to existentialism below!