We all have our superstitions. It's how the rational mind takes a breather every so often.
For instance: Way back in the Before Time, when people frequently died trying to drive faster than the other guy in machines often ill-suited to the purpose, green race cars were considered a herald of doom. Ditto peanuts. Ditto women in the pits. And you never, ever, wanted to drop your racing helmet.
Well, time and circumstance knocked a lot of that into a cocked hat. Jim Clark came to Indianapolis in a hunter-green Lotus and left everyone choking on his exhaust. Stock cars swaddled in Reese's logos showed up at Daytona, and the gates of Hell do not open beneath them. Janet Guthrie came along and Sarah Fisher and Danica Patrick, and the racing gods did not hurl any lightning bolts to strike down the blasphemers.
So, yes. Superstitions are silly. Even baseball, where it's not just in the movies that stealing Jobu's rum is very, very bad.*
(*Obligatory "Major League" reference)
Case in point: Cal Raleigh of the Seattle Mariners.
Who hit, like, a million home runs last season, but who came to Tuesday mired in an 0-for-36 slump. Couldn't hit a lick. Swung and missed, mostly. If baseballs had vocal chords, they'd have been chanting "Nyah, nyah, nyah-nyah, nyah" as they scooted past his suddenly impotent bat.
Well, Raleigh had had quite enough of that. So you know what he did?
On Monday night, he took a postgame shower fully clothed.
Marched into the spray wearing all his catcher's gear. Said the idea came from Seattle pitcher Logan Gilbert, and Raleigh decided it wasn't all that crazy considering ... well, considering oh-for-36.
"Logan gave me some good advice to wash off the bad mojo or juju from the baseball gods," Raleigh said.
I know, I know. Silly.
But you know what?
On Tuesday, Raleigh had two base knocks to end the slump. Pair of singles. First hits since April.
Something to think about the next time you're tempted to steal Jobu's rum.
Not that you would, of course.
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