The garage door rose Thursday morning and a new season introduced itself.
The morning sky, flimsy and blue the day before, had acquired a grave heftiness overnight. The newspaper rested among the first fallen sycamore leaves scattered across the lawn. Stepping outside, I shivered. And sighed.
Autumn, when the air cools, the light fades and the earth browns, is a melancholy season. "You expected to be sad in the fall," wrote Ernest Hemingway, who understood sadness.
That's certainly true when you're a fan of a going-nowhere baseball team drearily playing out its September schedule.
As the 2016 season wanes, interest in the Phillies has receded from an already low ebb.