Dream sequence

 Sometimes I dwell too much on my cruddy Pittsburgh Pirates, here on the Blob. That's absolutely true.

("No s***, Sherlock!" you're saying)

I do this even now, when the Cruds actually are only semi-cruddy, and in fact not nearly as cruddy right now as those pinstriped devils in New York. Which I find highly gratifying, mainly because the pinstriped devils are the sort of snotty entitled fat cats my Cruds could never hope to be unless the current owners sold the team to someone who actually was interested in fielding a major-league team.

In any event, I dwell too much. And I know this because when you start having dreams about something, you know you're over-dwelling on that something.

And so last night, I had a dream.

In my dream, I drove out to Pittsburgh to watch my Cruds play the first game of the NLCS. They'd reached the NLCS by beating the Dodgers in the opening round of the playoffs, for which the Cruds had qualified even though they were the worst team in baseball by several nautical miles.

(No, that doesn't make any sense. But that's how dreams work.)

Anyway, the Cruds were playing the Cubs, in my dream. Even the locals thought that was ridiculous. They knew the Cruds were the Cruds, and the Cubs, who in my dream had the best record in the National League, were probably gonna laminate 'em. 

Well, one thing led to another, all of them completely random because that's also how dreams work. I remember PNC Park had this weird layout in which half the crowd, including me, wound up watching the game on TV monitors on some sort of concourse outside the ballpark. And so I spent most of the game walking around stumbling into various luxury suites from which I was rather rudely evicted.

"You! Out!" some usher in a yellow Pirates blazer would shout at me. And also, "You're not allowed in here!"

Finally, the game was over. And the Cruds, absurdly enough, had won 9-0. And all of us Cruds fans were yukking it up because we could just imagine how steamed all the Cubs fans must be, losing to such a hideous baseball team by such a lopsided score.

After which I swiped some candy from one of the luxury suites and headed back to my car.

"Oh, who cares about your stupid dream," you're saying, especially if you're a Cubs fan.

Yeah, I know. I'm sure you don't.

But that candy, man. It was really good.