Magic numbers

My head hurts and it’s not because of the recent temperature swings. Or the increasing weight of my thesis project. Or last night’s open-bar wedding reception.

The cause of my recent pervasive headache is the MLB playoff race.

It’s dizzying.

It’s across the board.

It’s out of control.

With a week left in the regular season, which ends on Sept. 30, there are only two divisional races locked up (for all intents and purposes), those being Cleveland in the AL Central and Anaheim in the AL West. This leaves four divisions basically up for grabs.

Anything could happen.

All of the talk about magic numbers and clinch-this and choke-that is making me see white spots and fear pinstripes.

Starting in the AL East — where my heart is — it was never really in question.

The Yankees were going to be in the thick of things when September rolled around, the Red Sox’ 14.5 game lead was moot.
Neither you nor I could have looked in the mirror at that point and said, without cowering in shame, “It’s over, Red Sox Nation, the Yankees have collapsed! Smooth sailing, and Godspeed.” Now, after being up by so many games and leading the division for so long, it’s come back around.

The hottest team since the all-star break is bearing down on the Red Sox. It’s a far cry from May.

The good news for both, though, is that each has effectively wrapped up the Wild Card slot — we just don’t know who’s taking it home yet.

The National League race is where things get really interesting.

I’ll just throw some names at you: Mets, Phillies, Cubs, Brewers, Diamondbacks, Rockies and Padres. That makes seven different NL teams with a chance of making the playoffs. What is more, in no divisional race is there more than a three and a half game difference.

The Wild Card race? It could go in any direction. Colorado will have the toughest chance, but they are only two and a half games out there.

It’s out of control.

The three biggest things to look for this week, aside from how the NL Wild Card turns out:

1. The AL East. Can the Red Sox hold on to their season-long advantage, or will it crumble in the last throws of the 162-game campaign?

Can the Yankees keep up their torrid pace and overtake their red-footed rivals as AL East champs for the umpteenth time in a row?

2. The Mets. They, like the Red Sox, have had their division in hand for much of the season but each win is harder and harder to come by as the season winds down.

3. The Cubs. Enough said.

Why, Belichick, why?

If it isn’t one thing, then it’s another.

After enduring two weeks of pure agony with my favorite college football team – arguably two of the worst losses ever for the program – I was in need of a pick-me-up.

Naturally, I turned to my favorite professional team, the New England Patriots for some solace. I mean I had some HIGH expectations for the Pats coming into the season. And my hopes and dreams were centered on their retooled passing game and the addition of the freakish wideout Randy Moss.

I had been waiting months to see the Patriots suit up again, to hear about a Brady-to-Moss touchdown, to put last year’s season-ending loss to the Colts out of my mind.

So, I head to a friend’s house to watch the game – it’s lunchtime and I needed to get out of the office anyway. We were both excited.

Not long after I showed up, which was sometime during the first part of the second quarter, Tom Brady’s golden right arm showed me what I had been dreaming about for all those months: Brady-to-Moss for a 33-yard gain, which was immediately followed by a case of Brady-to-Moss for a 22-yard gain.

Oh, how we celebrated!

It was like that last dollar we spent on a PowerBall ticket had actually paid off.

We were rich beyond our wildest dreams, and everything in the world on that rainy Sunday became much, much brighter.

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!

Then, after two days spent at the Cloud Nine Club and Spa, it was like the IRS stormed the resort, kicked us out for tax evasion with our PowerBall winnings and confiscated them to boot.

Unbeknownst to my friend and I, Bill Belichick, the Patriots head coach and the NFL equivalent of Yoda (exceedingly goofy hoodie and all), had authorized someone on his staff to videotape the Jets’ coaches’ signals.

This was not good.

The statement the Patriots made with their season opening victory was washed away with the talk of cheating.

When I found out the punishment that NFL commissioner Roger Goodell levied on the Pats Thursday night at the bar, I spit my beer everywhere.

Belichick accrued the largest possible fine, $500,000, the team was fined $250,000, and draft picks will be lost.
Beyond that, though, is the haze of suspicion now hanging over New England’s three Super Bowl wins.

I don’t get it.

Without the cheating – and against the Jets of all teams – we were accepted as one of the best four teams in the league.

Now, we’re just known as the best cheater.

The Big Blue Blues

I was good about it all week: stayed strong, kept my chin up, stayed in the present and didn’t, dwell in the past.

By the time I woke up on Friday my mindset was, “Appalachian what?”

I was positive. We were going to rebound. We were going to tear off 11 straight wins to close out the regular season. That twopoint loss was a fluke. The game against Oregon was going to prove that at least that much.

If only …

If only my maize and blue tears would stop. It is worse than the worst hangover I’ve ever known — it has been wracking my brain for more than a week now.

The only pain killer that could ease my suffering would be a win against Notre Dame this Saturday.

After starting the season 0-2 — at home no less — for the first time since 1959, the 39-7 drubbing at the hands of the Oregon Ducks leaves Michigan and Big Blue nation (myself included) staring despondently into the distance.

And this depressing loss, the worst Michigan loss in almost 40 years, comes after the loss heard round the world — mighty number five Michigan slain by I-AA Appalachian State.

That loss was only the first time that a I-AA team beat a ranked I-A opponent. I thought that hurt. It hurts even worse now.

Oregon was the fourth loss in a row dating back to last season. The losses go, in chronological order: Ohio State (a thriller), USC (a downer), Appalachian State (a shocker) and Oregon (a killer). What’s more, all of these losses have happened since Bo Schembechler’s death last year, the day before the big game against Ohio State.

Now, I don’t dare think Michigan is cursed, but after being a Red Sox fan for so long those thoughts are unfortunately hot-wired.

The last two weeks have morphed into one long sob story. Unless someone hasn’t already done so, I might take it upon myself to nominate Michigan fans for the “Worst Week Ever.”

It just hurts my soul so much.

The misery has come in such quantities during the last 12 days it is hard to process. It seems there is no bright line for this string of events.

My usual ray of maize sunshine, Mike Hart, ran all over the Ducks in the first half of the Oregon loss, but wasn’t involved much in the second half. You could say the sun went into hiding.

The conventional wisdom is to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Keep going. Keep your chin up. Don’t dwell on the past. Conventional wisdom failed me last week.

Maybe this week I’ll wear a blindfold while I watch the game against Notre Dame — just something, anything, to dull the pain.