It’s Baseball, Ray.

This game makes me do things I wouldn’t normally do. Sometimes I get giddy. Sometimes I cry. Last night I stood up in the middle of the living room yelling at the TV.

Thirty teams. Twenty-nine will have disappointing season endings. The chances of “going all the way” are so slim. The one team that wins will get a couple days to celebrate, and everyone will forget. Then it’s “what about next year?” It all seems so futile.

But it doesn’t matter. We’re in the playoffs. The World Series is starting! I am so in.

I. Can’t. Help. My. Self.