Tuesday, April 12, 2011

No Relief

Watching one's favorite Major League team's bullpen implode late in a ballgame combines the melancholy awkwardness of repeating yourself to a beloved grandparent who is slowly but unmistakably losing his or her memory; the one-foot-small impotence of seeing an ex-girlfriend with another, undeniably better, boyfriend at a social event at which you're underdressed; and the nostril-flaring, steering-wheel choking rage of being stuck in gridlock traffic because a four-lane highway that you travel twice-daily between your home and your workplace has been closed down to one lane for seemingly unnecessary construction on the median.


Watching one's favorite Major League team's bullpen implode late in a ballgame also usually happens in Queens.