Ah...here it goes.

Well, well, well. If the old Pirates haven't begun their usual exercise in futility. In truth, I am so used to watching losing baseball that I was beginning to become uncomfortable with a winning record; I am glad my Buccos could accommodate me. Seriously though, what the fuck. It is like someone reminded the locker room that they should be a shitty team on record, or that they were winning accidentally until they found their stride. Our beloved Buccos sit at 5-5. I cannot say that I am disappointed; after all, they are exactly on pace for the 81-81 that I so desperately want. The only problem is that this would require a team of misfits to go .500 the rest of the way. If I were a betting man...well, let's say that the odds of getting hit by lightning and landing on Jimmy Hoffa are probably about the same as the Pirates winning as many games as they lose from here on out.

I realize that this blog was supposed to represent unyielding (and often foolish) optimism. To that I say "Fuck that." I am a realist. There is no chance in hell that the Pirates go .500. Any thoughts to the contrary are simply unrealistic pipe dreams. From this point forward (I probably could make this statement retroactive) I will be the resident pessimist on the Pie Trainers team. I will seek to curmudgeon any pleasant thoughts and hope. You have been warned.