The Opposite of Hope Week

"I'm saying... I'm saying I... I'm an insect who dreamed he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over... and the insect is awake... I'm saying, I'll hurt you if you stay.
- Jeff Goldblum, The Fly, 1986

Damn. Somehow, we ended up in a David Cronenberg movie.

Last night in the post-game, that's what Joe sounded like - Goldblum's sci-fi character, Seth Brundle, warning his girlfriend to get out now, before the horror horn starts honking. Joe claimed the team will right itself, that all will be okay. But this is a team that dreamed it was a contender, and now the alarm clock is clanging. The wild card bug inside us is awakening, and the insect voice inside us is yelling, Get out!  

We are now one game up on Boston.

One measly, stupid, crushed mosquito of a game. After all this year's hope and anguish - the rise of Aaron Judge, the fall of Greg Bird, Gardy's epic comeback HR against the Cubs, CC's return, Sanchez' hot streaks, the massacre of Baltimore - after all the peaks and valleys... a stinking, lousy one-game lead? Is that all there is? Is that all there is? If that's all there is, my friends, then let's start dancing. Let's break out the booze and have a ball. If that's all. There is...

Today, we are 5.5 up on the Rays - the Rays! - who at 35-35 are the embodiment of a B-movie clunker. By July 3 - the season midway - we could be in third. After all the successes, we could be adrift in the middle of the pack. A one game lead? Shoot me. And let's face it: Boston here is the underachiever, we're the feel-good Cinderella "Look, ma, pubic hair!" surprise. We're Trump on Nov. 6: We wake up to find we won the election, and now all we gotta do is fulfill the shit-ton of impossible promises we made to get here.

Last night, it was our bullpen. (Make no mistake: No lead is safe.) Tomorrow, it'll be Colonel Mustard with the lead pipe in the conservatory. Last night's lineup - from Brigadoon Refsnyder to Classical Gas Williams - whisked me back to 2013. The bottom third - Romine, Torreyes, Williams - came straight from the year of Vernon and Pronk. 

Last week, Chris Carter batted ninth. Last night, he batted fifth. Jeez, the guy is hitting .215, and you'd think the Babe himself had returned. So Carter homers and fans three times. He has now eight homers and 60 Ks in 149 at bats. And he bats fifth? Dear God. I can see why Oakland felt so empowered. They may stink, but if they look at the opposing lineup being trotted out, they know it's a winnable game. 

Well, we were not supposed to win anything this year. We were supposed to be bugs, squashed on Boston's windshield, until 2019, when the hatchlings take flight. We dreamed we were champions. Now, the dream is over. And here's the truth: They're going to hurt us if we stay.