Baseball is not influenced by the lay person. The Baseball Gods are the ones that gust the wind at just the right time or bend the laws of physics for that split second to pull a ball foul. The slow start for a team is a hard hand dealt by the Baseball Gods, and each team has to deal with it at one point or another. In the 2012 season, the New York Yankees got swept (SWEPT) by the Tampa Bay Rays, a formidable opponent, to open the campaign. In New York, a market equal in rabidity to Boston, the media and fans would make you think that the earth had opened up and The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man had shown up to engulf the planet in flames, tragedy, and a sticky mess. Three games. That’s it. That is all it takes to send baseball fans into a frenzy.

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On the field, disinterested youths awkwardly pull at their groins to adjust the cup that is mostly for show. When you are 9 years old, everything dong related is mostly for show. They swing and miss at every pitch, except for the off moments where they close their eyes and make contact with the ball. There is a flood of children running towards the ball, some falling along the way. The ball rolls to a stop somewhere between the pitcher’s mound and third base, and the batter (for lack of a better term) chugs to first base. Someone will eventually throw the ball in the general vicinity of first, but no one will be on the other end. Base to base, this circus is repeated.

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