Every baseball fan worth his or her salt knows about streaks. During the course of a season it seems like virtually every player or team goes on both a good streak and a bad streak– or slumps as they’re called in the sports world– at one point or another. Streaks and slumps are a natural part of a season’s arc, and while I’m sure statisticians can use some of their probability wizardry to explain why streaks and slumps are just a part of the randomly occurring success and failure rates that are inherent within the game, (or something– apologies to all of you statisticians out there for murdering an explanation of your life’s work) to the rest of us it doesn’t take a lot of convincing to start thinking that something supernatural is at play.
Superstitions abound, especially in baseball. I love how utterly nonsensical the game can be– the superstitions (I’ve hit safely in the last 9 games because I’ve worn the same socks in the last 9 games), the adherence to a set of unwritten rules (which have been falling under question lately as being too “old-timey” for the game by some in the media… I like old-timey stuff, so their logical complaints hold no water with me), the liberal use of riverbank mud to rub up baseballs (of which I am sure there is a cheaper, synthetic option)– the works.
I’m streaky myself when it comes to my creative output. I’ll get hot and everything seems to hold inspirational qualities. I’ll get cold and a great song idea could smack me in the face and I wouldn’t notice it. It’s just the way I work.
My wife calls it manic.
I call it being streaky, and I’m on a streak because of these socks that I’ve been wearing.
See? Biiiiig difference.
time: 2:37 pm
date: Tuesday, June 3rd
place: home, New Braunfels, TX
300//\\365//\\300 is a writing exercise– 300 entries over 365 days, each no longer than 300 words (I’m not so hot at sticking to the last part).