I am a huge baseball fan. Sadly for me, I’m in Dodger land. You know, the team that betrayed Brooklyn and went out west. Nowadays. Sports teams readily move from city to city eschewing fan loyalty. The Los Angeles Dodgers made their cross-country move decades ago. Before I was born. But I am a New York girl and am extremely loyal to my town. Thus, although I love baseball, I have yet to catch a game out in LA. The Dodgers are part of the national league which means they may at some point play against my beloved NY Mets.  At which point I may make it to a game. Considering that I live so close to the stadium, it surely is a shame to not make my way to a game for some hot dogs and jeering of the local team. I somewhat jest.

Besides my love of baseball, which is based in part on my Puerto Rican roots, I’ve been thinking about the game because of a recent awesome Buster Posey game.
Let me explain.
Buster Posey is a catcher for the San Francisco Giants.   Recently, his team was in an epic game against the Cincinnati Reds. The game went 17 innings. For those of you not entirely familiar with baseball, there are nine innings to a game, unless there is a tied game at the bottom of the 9th.  Then, it goes on and on.

Posey came up to the plate at the bottom the 17th inning and hit a lead off home run. The game finally ended.

In the clubhouse, when interviewed by the press as to how he felt about driving in the winning run, he noted that he was happy that it was finally over. Word! We have all been there.

I know that I recently experienced something similarly grueling. We had prepared for three months as a team for a somewhat important visit that had required over 600 pages of produced documents and scripted responses. It was a tiring event akin to a three-ring circus taking place within the hall of mirrors in the movie Lady from Shanghai. Too many pop culture references?  Eh. I didn’t even drink those days.  By the end of the tortuous event, everything felt anticlimactic. Instead of celebrating with an outing, as often happens on television, we all just wanted to walk away noting that it was over.   To quote the President: Sad.
Sometimes the best thing you can say about something is that it ended.  I’ve had meetings like that where I anticipated wWorld War III  and luckily all I got was that it eventually ended.  You’ve been there. You know what I mean. Its the exact opposite feeling of ripping off a bandaid. With the bandaid it’s painful but over quickly. Because of the pain and quickness you get an odd sense of elation. You feel free. But when you are instead left with a feeling of that it’s finally over, you have bottomed out for the moment.
I will take pain over an anticlimactic feeling of nothing. But hey a win is a win. So, I hope Buster eventually got to enjoy the champagne bottle.  Or in my case a flaming tiki rum cocktail.  Even though I had to toast myself. Where is Michael Scott when you need him?