The Slump

Imagine being David Ortiz. You're in a slump, can't hit the ball, leaving men on base inning after inning. Your struggle is intensely public: sportswriters everywhere are writing your career obit and wondering about past steroid use, and fans are looking grim and sad every time you trudge back to the dugout after yet another out. There's nowhere to hide; you're failing and everyone knows it.

And then, just like in the movies, you start hitting again. Your batting average, which was .143 for the month of May, rises to .308 for the month of June. You hit 5 home runs over 35 at-bats in 3 weeks, a gigantic improvement over May, when you hit your first home run in 149 at-bats. The sportswriters are tentative about declaring the slump over, the fans are ecstatic. And you are nearly the old Big Papi again, at least for now. Although it is an incredible relief to be hitting again, it must also feel like every trip to the plate is putting everything on the line in a very different way than in seasons past.

Nothing and no one lasts forever. Even the indomitable Papelbon is not having 3-and-out innings these days. For Sox fans, it's a reminder of what it was always like to root for the Sox, walking that tightrope between hope and despair. For several years, Big Papi and Papelbon were dead certs. And although it's more anxiety-producing now to watch them both, it's also more interesting, and, when they overcome their difficulties, it's way more thrilling. As cool as it was to watch Papelbon's fastball blow across homeplate, there's now the intrigue and drama of not knowing what will happen. How could anyone not love this game?