This term has always been a favorite, since my brother first used it to describe having no job, no girlfriend, and no car circa 1995.  I know my tagline says to take deep breaths and to check in with reality every once in a while, but the reality is bleak.

Which is not to say that the future is bleak. Just the present. But that’s what bothers me. Because, if you get beat up enough in the present, your psyche may not rebound in the future.

My Red Sox-lovin’ husband said to me last night, “Do you really think this team is an under-.500 team?” No, I do not.  His point is that they will click at some point. My point is that if the frustration reaches maximum levels, the pessimism will infect even the most optimistic guys.

I really like this group of guys. I want to see them do well. But I’m beginning to suspect that they will have to mutiny in some way to get it done.  That’s right: I’m breaking down and blaming Girardi.  No, he’s not responsible for the horrible team batting average with runners in scoring position, but after two weeks of watching games and saying “Why? For the love of god, why?” to many of his decisions regarding starters and the bullpen, I can only come to the conclusion that, at some point, he’s going to stir up more frustration than inspiration in the dugout.

For now, the reality is that smiles and high-fives are few and far between, and Mo’s face right here tells you all you need to know: