Despite my frustration with the San Diego Padres at the end of each season (there have been a few—far few—exceptions), I eagerly await the start of the baseball season in April. It’s usually a new team. Usually a young, inexperienced, team. There is hope in the air.
I eagerly watch games all through April and May. By June, I watch fewer games. It’s difficult to watch west coast games from England, and the effort is usually wasted considering how often my Padres lose.
At the All Star break (in early July), I try to re-join—but it doesn’t last long.
I’ll watch a few games in September because there is some ridiculous goal like “not finishing in last place” that they can still achieve.
By the time the playoffs start, if the Padres are not in it (most of the time), I swear that next year that I won’t bother with baseball. I won’t plop down the money for the MLB.com season. It’s too difficult to be a Padres fan overseas—and it’s not like they deserve it. I’m through with baseball, I declare. Maybe I should learn how the hell cricket is played.
I’m a Padres fan. I’m not even a fan of mediocrity. I’m just a fan of bad.
Then the cycle starts again the next year.
The Padres have 21 wins and 41 losses so far this year. They are last in the NL West. At the moment, they are the worst team in baseball. It’s all pretty much on schedule.