It’s a Wednesday afternoon and the New York Mets are playing their arch nemeses, the Atlanta Braves. Tylor (NOT Tyler, he’s quick to remind you) Megill, a new pitcher who a year ago no one had ever heard of, is now dominating on the mound, throwing fastballs at 96 miles per hour, tricking guys with nasty sliders. It’s 0-0 in the sixth inning, and then bam, the Braves get a series of hits that quickly puts the game to 7-0. 

I feel crushed. A knot forms in my stomach. I can’t watch anymore. Because it’s too painful. But also because, as I mentioned, it’s a Wednesday afternoon and I have taken two hours out of my day to watch the Mets instead of doing work. I close the tab on my browser. I’ll reopen it for tomorrow’s game.