After a lifetime of aggravating seasons, I’m having a particularly hard time accepting how pathetic my team is this year. After holding down the top spot with mirrors for the better part of the first 75 games in my NL-only league, I’m now dangerously close to the long good bye.

If my pitching wasn’t so horrific I would focus more on my dormant offense. Why do I have to look at an 0-for-4 line from Freddy Sanchez every freaking night? Why does the combination of Derrek Lee, Bengie Molina, Conor Jackson and James Loney never go deep?

The timing of my pitchers’ starts irks me to no end. The night before one of my starters is scheduled to go, without fail the team he will pitch against gets shut out, thus setting my pitcher up for failure.

Every pitcher in the NL is sensational except mine. Tonight is no exception as Jake Peavy, Jason Marquis, Matt Cain, Aaron Cook and Kyle Lohse, all owned by my competition, combined to allow one earned run.

My only hope is that Jeff’s vaunted vacation theory stays true to form as I leave on Monday for 10 days in South Africa. I can see myself on safari, hauling ass from a pack of hyena, all the while wondering what Joel Pinero’s WHIP was against the Pirates.

Can I go all of these days without checking stats? I’ve accepted the fact that I’m no longer a contributing member of society and me checking baseball stats daily is the equivalent of a Bedouin scouring the Sahara for a taste of water.

What does it matter anyway? As soon as I return my team will resume its vintage plummet. May as well hop the first ostrich to an internet cafe.