This idiot's farewell to 2018's season

Whoever said that the baseball season is like a marathon had no idea what they were talking about.

Have they even WATCHED a marathon?

The average marathon is decided in about 2 hour and 10 minutes. That's about 225 times faster than a baseball season.

Marathons require conditioning and stamina. Okay, maybe THAT is required for a baseball season. Not as a player, necessarily. But being a fan does require some conditioning and stamina. As fans of this godforsaken team, we have been well-conditioned, and we have built up stamina to endure the downs, and rare ups, of this team.

We probably were guilty of looking up the playoff odds of the M's on fangraphs or 538 (88%!!!) on July 5th, but we all knew from our conditioning that this wasn't going to last. But that's okay. We've trained for this.

And I have to admit that as an M's fan that saw my first game when I was 33 days old, in June of 1980, that I really don't care that much that the team didn't make the playoffs this year. Sure, it's disappointing, but that's not why I watch the games or even go to LL any longer.

I don't really care that much about the players are players. I couldn't really give a rip about Cano, or Healy, or Cruz. I still have a soft spot for Felix, and my soul aches because of it.

This ISN'T one of those dumb posts about how being a Mariners fan is accepting losing, or how the team drove me away. This stupid team couldn't drive me away.

This post is really just to tell you that the reason I watch the M's, and show up here, is because of you wonderful bastards.

We sit in our imaginary dingy bar and make off-hand comments. (I personally envision a round table that has just about 5 chairs, yet hundreds sitting around it, with a beer light, and old Steve Largent posters on the walls.) Occasionally fiddlecat makes an appearance, and we all cheer. Some drink microbrews, others rum and Cokes.

And every night we show up at the same place. Some nights, or weeks, someone is missing. I have to admit I was away too much, but that's okay, because when I'm back, it feels like home again.

And we trudge together through this god damned death march that is every season. And the games go on an on, and mean less and less, but the time we're together means more.

And now the season is done. Another one. I don't really care for playoff baseball. I'll wander in and out to check up on transactions, but that's not really why I'm here, so I don't bother much.

This spring, I got a phone call from my sister telling me that my step-father had just had a massive heart attack, and his heart had stopped for 11 minutes, and he was most likely brain dead, and to hurry home. It was just a few days before the season started. And when he woke up, it was the morning of day 2 of the season, and I was so worried that the man who helped raise me was gone, and just a shell was left. I told him that the Cubs had started the season with a home run, on the very first pitch of the season. And he asked me if it was Schwarber, and I was stunned. I told him no, and he said.. "Oh, Happ." And I cried.

The results don't matter. The time does.

And, with all of this, we have to accept that eventually all this will be gone, and so will we, through our own passing, or through the natural drift of people apart as they move through life.

So, I want to finish by saying thank you to all that put this together, and to Jeff and Matthew that brought me here, and to the community that makes the time worth it.

See you around, and hopefully, see you next season.