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Sonic booms, tsunamis, or the occasional sperm whale belch cause mass confusion and send ripples through the space/time continuum. However, despite the strength of these phenomena of nature, there is nothing quite like feeling a disturbance in the Force. These disturbances happen once in a while; particularly after a long period of everything being in the status quo. I am not afraid to admit I felt a “ripple” Monday as I was driving down the road (and no it wasn’t that bean burrito from Taco Bell either). I could not place my finger on why the Force had shifted so drastically (remember I am not quite Darth Vader). However, Tuesday I heard the news I had been dreading to hear for so long.

“Down goes Frazier”, “Do you believe in miracles?”, “I don’t believe what I just saw” pale in comparison to the words uttered by Wimer’s profile: “March-Westin : 10-1 we totally got caught”. It was like someone had taken all the air out of the world and the Earth just engulfed itself. “March-Westin lost?”, I thought to myself. I was in total shock. It was kind of like when you finish your Calculus test in ten minutes and then get the grade back the next day and it says somewhere in the neighborhood of 35% on it. That is exactly how I felt. I just could not imagine a quality team such as March-Westin could ever lose a game.

Which brings me to my point about disturbances and the Force. There are things known as inverse proportions in the universe. The Yin and the Yang, so to speak. Well when one of them is up the other is down and vice versa. Good things happen to one while bad things happen to another. Well, apparently this March-Westin travesty began around 7 pm on Monday and I was on my way home from Oakland, Maryland around that time. At the time I paid no attention to the blue skies, and the birds chirping, and every car not being in my way on the drive home. Normally, I get behind the slowest grandma driving mini-van in three counties and he/she usually leads me right to my front door. This time, though, it was different. My path was clear and my car made it home and gasoline even dropped while I was gone.

Looking back on the whole situation knowing what I know now, it is incredibly obvious to me that all my good fortune happened because March-Westin was busy pounding out 7 hits (”7 hits? 7 goddamn hits?”, in the words of Harry Doyle). The last time I checked, 7 hits usually doesn’t win a softball game unless by some freak of nature a no-hitter is thrown (which would pretty much seal the deal that the team that got no-hit is absolutely the worst sports team to ever be assembled). What I wouldn’t give to have been behind the slow grandma just so I didn’t have to write this stupid article.

Alas, the only perfect team ever, the 1972 Miami Dolphins, have now popped the champagne TWICE this year. March-Westin must now try to be better than the ‘91 Washington Redskins who lost a mere two games the entire year on their way to winning their third Super Bowl. So, as the master of psychology that I am, I am challenging March-Westin to not be like the Atlanta Braves and just fold up; instead, be a true champion and come back and win the whole kit-an-kaboodle, all the marbles, the whole shootin’ match, the whole enchilada. You get my drift. PLAY LIKE A CHAMPION TODAY!!!!!!