Nine games over .500. A game and a half out of first. A bunch of hustling youngsters (relatively speaking, in terms of big league experience) and a group of pitchers that has, so far, been able to overcome the loss of the franchise's saves leader.
So where's the love? The excitement? The 50-page Game Day threads? Hell, I can count on one hand the number of times Schwa has written a love sonnet this year. There were at least 20 by this time last year.
I just get the sense that we -- and by "we," I mean "me," since it's all about me -- are waiting for the bottom to fall out. Because this seems like the sort of overachieving group that we should be out-of-control excited about, and I don't sense that yet.
Am I, as usual, wrong? If not, what's the deal?
Let the debate -- and the Friday afternoon time wasting -- begin.
So where's the love? The excitement? The 50-page Game Day threads? Hell, I can count on one hand the number of times Schwa has written a love sonnet this year. There were at least 20 by this time last year.
I just get the sense that we -- and by "we," I mean "me," since it's all about me -- are waiting for the bottom to fall out. Because this seems like the sort of overachieving group that we should be out-of-control excited about, and I don't sense that yet.
Am I, as usual, wrong? If not, what's the deal?
Let the debate -- and the Friday afternoon time wasting -- begin.
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