We’re two away from the 40-game mark, where it’s OK to begin to insert yourself back into baseball again. All I ask is you take that you please take it slow.
In doing my research (apparently the Tigers have this fat guy named Fielder) I’ve noticed a bit of, let’s just call minor all out terror from the fan base.
The Tigers kind of suck. Who knew? Then again, they’re only 18-20, four games back of the Cleveland Incredibly Racist Mascots, who by the way, also kind of suck.
Sure the Tigers can’t hit, can’t pitch, have a lot of injuries and don’t have a bullpen. They’ll probably need to improve on at least one of those aspects if they plan on winning the division. But they’re only 38 games in. There’s no need for the panic button. That should be stowed away on the top shelf of the closet with that Easter Egg your stupid kid never found.
The whole reason not to jump into the way-too-long baseball season is because it’s way too long. The beginning games don’t matter. I’ve said it before, everybody is going to win 20 games and lose 20 games. Still, the truly, unhealthily obsessed people can’t realize this.
They can’t control themselves, getting ready to call the season a lost cause in May. If you’re a part of this group, let me help you out. I’m going to pinpoint the exact time you should hit the panic button.
Let’s start with the basics. The worst record in modern MLB history is the 1962 Mets’ 40-160. The best record (again, in the modern era) is the 2001 Mariners’ 116-46. Every team this season is going to fall within these two points. So every win before 40 and every loss before 46 doesn’t matter. That’s 86 games, or exactly the amount of games before the All-Star break.
Enjoy the Summer Classic. Watch a passed-it’s-steroided-prime home run derby in peace.
If we look even deeper, we can push doomsday back even further.
Boringly enough, it doesn’t look like anybody is going to challenge for either record this season. There will be just be your run-of-the-mill really really good teams and your standard absolutely awful teams (I’m looking at you, Minnesota).
Looking at the past 10 years, on average, the worst team in the league won 56 games. The best team lost 61. For the mathematically challenged, that’s 117.
The Central Division is terrible. No one is running away with the division before that. Just like nearly every year before, the separation will come in those last 45 games.
Any win before 56 and loss before 61 doesn’t matter. Take most of the summer off, unless you want to spend it inexplicably agitated. And right around midnight on August 14, after the Tigers give up an early lead to the awful Twins and spend the entire game clawing back into it only to run out of time, flip on the hall light, trudge up to that closest, realize that old Easter Egg is what has made your house smell like throw-up for the past month, throw it out, forget why you went there in the first place, and go to bed.
Then at 3 a.m. as some faceless, new-age, rec-specs invade to your dream, run back to closet and push that panic button, hoping you’re not too late.
You won’t be.