“Does anybody even know I’m still in here?” hollered Mike O’Hara as the general American populace scurried into their favorite sports bars to watch Week 1 of the NFL.
After winning MLB’s promotional “Dream Job” contest, O’Hara earned the right to live in a confined space for 6 months and watch all 2,430 big league games this season. However, as often happens around this time of year, the return of football causes baseball to look a little, for lack of better words, dumb.
Back in April O’Hara greeted his new dream job with gusto, and why wouldn’t he? He got to live in a ground floor apartment rent free, sit in chairs facing televisions, and meet real live baseball players, over and over and over again. But now as the excitement has shifted to football O’Hara’s finds himself living in what he refers to as “a dark, joyless hell chasm where the Pirates and Reds always seem to be playing a 4-game series.”
As if his own personal torment wasn’t enough, visitors to the Fan Cave have taken notice of Mike’s depression. “I gave him a hug hello like I do everybody and he started crying on my chest,” reported David Ortiz. “He dug his nails into my back and asked if I could take him with me,” Papi continued, “I said, no Michael, I can’t.”
“When I visited Mike at the Cave I found him sitting in a chair watching all of AJ Burnett’s starts simultaneously,” Mets’ pitcher R.A. Dickie confessed. “He had hung up pictures of crying clowns everywhere, it was very disturbing.”
Psychologists have offered various explanations for O’Haras late-season depression, ranging seasonal affect disorder, a prolonged separation from loved ones, and eating too many pretzels. One theory, however, seems to standout above the rest. “I just don’t think anybody wants to watch that much baseball,” posited Fran Willow, a recent Devry graduate and full-time philosopher. “They should atleast give him a remote control if all they’re going to feed him is pretzels,” he continued thoughtfully.
O’Hara’s behavior seems to indicate that Willow is on to something. “The other day I watched Josh Beckett throw over to first seven times trying to pick off Ben Zobrist. Ben Zobrist! He’s not even fast!” O’Hara lamented from one of his many chair options. “I’d kill for a fucking touchdown.”
Unfortunately for O’Hara, the Fan Cave guidelines explicitly prohibit leaving the premises, and watching an NFL game is punishable by death or another year in the Fan Cave. “Can somebody atleast tell me who won the Packers game?” O’Hara pleaded as we left the Cave.
No, Michael, we can’t.