So a mom, dad and their two kids hop into a self-driving Subaru, zip under some hoverboards on their way to the stadium, slip on their climate-controlled jackets when they get out, devour their drone-delivered hot dogs 10 rows behind the third-base dugout, and get set to watch the Mariners’ first playoff game since 2001.
What? Not a possibility? It isn’t feasible that the longest postseason drought in American sports can double in unsightliness over the next decade or two?
I’m not saying Mariners general manager Jerry Dipoto was wrong in decimating this roster. I’m not suggesting the smart move would have been to give 2019 a genuine try after an 89-win season.