Sorry for getting biographical, but in the span of 48-hours, my apartment floods, my power goes out, my water goes out, my car gets towed, I get stung by wasps, work goes nuts, my brother overdraws a check card I gave him and all's I want is a relaxing night with the Brewers and a nice steak. Well, the steak was ruined, the beer was warm. And then came that game, another "just when you think it couldn't get worse," game, part of the waking nightmare that is the Brewers September, another collapse, like and yet unlike other collapses presided over by the Scowling Skip'. I still want to root for them, really I do. But acceptance is an important part of grief, and seeing the look of doom in that team's eyes tells me all I need to know about how this year is going to end, darkness, bones bleaching in the dust, picked clean of carrion. I can see the snow swirls through the empty Miller Park lots already. All is lost. Edit: Okay, okay. I'm back. Let's win this one, CC. (Got my prescription re-upped.)