Seatbelts

For the last four months I've kept my Dodger fandom at arm's length. I've tried to stay cool, like an MI6 Agent or Steve McQueen or Big Pink era Bob Dylan, and for the most part I've pulled it off.  I've engaged in the rest of the baseball world.  I've put together a pretty good fantasy team (Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose!). I've held back the tears at each sight of Carlos Santana stepping to the plate in an Indians uniform.

But now it's over. Composure gone.  After the  skid to start the second half. After Joe Torre and his staff's low-budget reenactment of Custer's performance at Little Big Horn last night. And most especially after Chad "A New Hope" Billingsley's Complete Game Shutout of the Giants tonight, I am left unable to play it calm and collected.  Despite my knowledge that things will likely end badly, that the season will collapse, that my dreams will be shattered, I am now embracing the turbulence. American League baseball be damned. Lebron James be damned. Senatorial primaries be damned. If you need access to my heart and mind in the next ten weeks, you'll find them wrapped up in the journey of the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Seatbelts.

Bonus link: Jon Weisman's amazing writeup of the Dodgers' meltdown against the Giants on Tuesday. He uses George Sherrill's middle name to great effect.