Three games into the winning streak and it feels like we're in exactly the same position we were in when we started. Seven games behind the Dodgers in the division, drifting hopelessly out of the Wild Card race, and nowhere near where we thought we'd be when the season began. Our star third baseman still doesn't hit, our catchers are still inconsistent, and our bullpen still gives me the willies at times. At least second base seems a bit more secure with Kaz-Mat back, but that's only a small solace.
Fact is, I'm still stamping my feet in fury about how this season is going. I hate to see idiot sports columnists so smug about my misery, and I hate to feel like I root for an irrelevance to the rest of the league.
Look, I don't mean to be an ingrate, but Rockies, you've brought my hopes temporarily higher like this before, only to lose the next seven out of ten and ninny about how you don't understand how this happened... the talent's there... we've just got to play better... whine... whine... whimper... but at least you won those whopping three whole games in a row that once. It's like you're bringing me some flowers after you come home drunk on the night of our anniversary, and expecting the gesture to mean something to me. It doesn't. I need to see the overall behavior change, and then your three game win streaks will start to feel sincere. The next game's tonight, Matt Morris and the Giants against Aaron Cook. Make it four in a row, then win again tomorrow and maybe we can talk about earning your way back into my heart.