Now it's over

And I'm okay with that.

I mean, look at this season:

At the beginning of it, my heart said we could finish third...my head said, probably 4th. And we nearly won the dang thing.

If our four most consistent starters had asked me for a beer, I would have said: "uh...gonna need to see some ids." Now, even Cakeburn seems like a steady, reliable star-to-be.

We beat the four pitchers of the apocolypse.

We lost the greatest pitcher who breathes oxygen, and an outfielder from the heavens and came within two runs of going to the playoffs.

We lost the most adorable rightfielder in baseball, and replaced him with a big money saving wunderkid.

We had an infield that occasionally included an Opie look-a-like, a grizzled prospector, and a bunch of guys I haven't created funny characters for, but they played like all stars (occasionally).

We paired a garden gnome with the lost art of supraction and created magic.

And best of all, we started this blog, which, in case you didn't know, is totally awesome.

I watched tonight's game with 8 colleagues, then 20 people in a downtown bar, then discussed it with family and my co-blogger in crime. And everywhere I went there was one opinion:

It's okay.

We're young and getting better every day. We're tough and battle-tested. We've been through the fires of a playoff chase and are ready to go through it again. We'll be back next year, a year wiser, stronger, faster. The Sox? Older. The Indians? Weaker. The Tigers? Slower. The Royals? Well...they might have a shot. 

But the point is: we don't have to win it all right now. It would have been nice, but it's not necessary. We've got time. We're good. We'll get better. Our season is over, but we'll move on. We aren't the Yankees. So our attitude is not: win or else. We're proud of how our boys played, and we're hopeful for the future.

As a Montanan Expatriate, let me say: "Ya done good fellas, real good."

P.s. In case you were wondering, your peanuts ain't done yet. We'll be back to joke about the playoffs, the offseason, and, of course, next year.

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