At the end of last year’s horrible season, if a person from the future had arrived and told me that on September 23, 2024, the Royals would be 82-74 with a one game lead in the Wild Card standings and only six games to go, and nothing else at all about how the season played out, I would’ve been ecstatic.
Now, though, having lived through this grueling month, this most cruel of months (T.S. Eliot got it wrong), I am the opposite of ecstatic.
I am not static.
I am racked with worry.
I have concerns.