Winter Again

And so another season has come to its end. My Mariners pajamas have been packed away until spring* and The Time of No Baseball is upon us.

* Well, they’re in the hamper, waiting for Saturday, our usual laundry day. No, this is not the first time they’ve been washed since April. What a disgusting thought. They generally go into the wash when the Ms get stuck on a losing streak. They got washed a lot this year.

But before we say goodbye to baseball (hasten, oh ye Winter Meetings) I need to give the scorecard on my playoff picks. As you probably guessed, it’s not a pretty picture. My goal is 70% accuracy; my historical mark is closer to 50%. This year did not showcase one of my better outings.

Three out of five in the American League isn’t bad. Typical, even. Thanks to the Yankees, Astros, and Athletics for making it happen.

Over in the National League, however, I barely avoided a shutout. Much as I hate to thank the Dodgers for anything, they were my only score.

That’s a measly 40% across both leagues.

Nor did I do much better once we got into the playoffs.

I correctly put the Yankees in the AL championship and called their failure to make the World Series. Other than that, though…

I predicted the World Series would run to six games. So much for that notion. I’m betting that nobody predicted a seven game series with every game won by the road team. Never happened before–in any sport–and may never happen again. That’s not a prediction, by the way, just a gut reaction.

Far from strolling past the Padres on their way to the championship, the Dodgers went down in flames against the Nationals.

Meanwhile, the Astros had the best record in baseball, allowing them to avoid the Wild Card game and my predicted embarrassing loss to the As. Didn’t help them in the World Series, though.

That–to use a traditional cliche–is why they play the games.

All in all, I might as well have been in Mudville.

Clearly, my methodology needs some work. I’ve considered delaying my predictions, thinking that picking the teams a week into the season would give me a longer baseline and improve my accuracy.

Had I done so this year, my AL picks would have been the Yankees, Twins, Mariners, Blue Jays, and Athletics. In the NL, I would have gone with the Dodgers, Phillies, Mets, Brewers, and Cardinals. That would have improved my overall score to 50%, yes. But I still would have picked the Dodgers to go all the way.

And, as you may have noticed, the Astros wouldn’t even have made the list.

Somehow that doesn’t seem like the kind of statistical breakthrough I’m looking for. I’ll have to consider my options more deeply.

At least I’ve got something to do during the next five months of baseball-free nights.

2019 Playoffs

Already know who you’re rooting for in the MLB playoffs this year? Or totally lost to the One True Faith? You might as well skip this post. Come back Wednesday–I may have another post this week–or Friday for the cats. The rest of you, gather around.

Sure, you can watch the playoffs without rooting for anyone. But where’s the fun in that? This post aims to help you choose a rooting interest, whether you want to pick a single team to follow throughout the month or pick a new team in each series.

Again, this isn’t about picking a winner. I’ve made those predictions, and I won’t revisit them until November. (As a reminder–Spoilers, Darling!–I picked the Dodgers to win it all. There’s still time to call Vegas.)

If you’re new to this blog, you may be surprised to hear there are rules for choosing a rooting interest. But why should something so important be left to whim and chance?

Rules for Rooting, 2019 edition

  1. Unless it’s the team you follow during the regular season, you must not root for any team that has been promoted as “America’s Team” or otherwise held up by its owners and/or the media as the ultimate expression of the sport. If you do root for one of these teams, this is a great time to reconsider your life choices.
  2. You should not root for a team from your own team’s division.
  3. That said, you should root for somebody from your own league. Crossing the league boundary without a really good excuse is in bad taste.
  4. Possession of team merchandise with sentimental value OR a history of following a favorite player from team to team trumps Rules Two and Three. It does not override Rule One. Nothing overrides Rule One.
  5. Teams with a record of recent futility or legitimate “misfit” credentials get bonus points in the decision process. A record of futility means multiple losing seasons or a lengthy stretch without a playoff appearance and/or title. What constitutes legitimate misfittery is up to you. Be honest with yourself.
  6. All other rules notwithstanding, you are always free to root for the Indians, holders of a seventy season World Series drought.

That said, rooting for the Indians this year would be an exercise in Zen Futility, since they’re not in the playoffs. But I digress.

Since I’m writing as much as possible of this post ahead of time, we’ll start with the National League, where the teams were set by the middle of last week.

The National League playoff teams are Atlanta, Washington, St. Louis, Milwaukee, and Los Angeles.

As always, Rule One applies to the Braves, thanks to Ted Turner. It also applies to the Nationals (for obvious reasons) and the Dodgers.

We’ll award a futility point to the Brewers, whose fans have now been waiting for a World Series title for half a century.

Dodgers, Nationals, and Braves followers can take the next couple of days for reflection. Fans of the other NL East and West teams have an obvious pick in the Brewers. And, much as I hate to encourage violation of Rule Two, it’s a lesser offense than breaking Rule One. So those of you who usually cheer for the Cubs, Reds, or Pirates should also be rooting for Milwaukee.

Now, on to the American League, where the playoff teams weren’t settled until Friday. The Junior Circuit has given us New York, Minnesota, Houston, Oakland, and Tampa Bay.

Fortunately for my sanity, there’s only one AL playoff team subject to Rule One–the Yankees, of course.

We’ll give the Athletics and Twins a futility point each, since their World Series droughts are at twenty-nine and twenty-seven years, respectively. (Last year, I gave the As a misfit point, primarily because of Khris Davis’ four-year streak of hitting exactly .247. That string ended this year–he finished at .220–so no misfit point for the As.)

Yankees boosters, go meditate on your media-enabled sins.

Non-playoff affiliated fans, your guidance looks like this: If you’re normally in the AL East or Central, you should looking west to cheer for the Athletics. If you’re from the West Division, the Twins are your crew. Simple, huh?

And, as always, if you don’t normally follow baseball–whether because you’ve lost the True Faith or never been properly entered in the rolls of the Faithful–you can exercise your free will. You can choose your team based on geography, following the guidelines above. Or take the easy way out and root for the As. Or exercise your masochistic side and root for the Indians.

And to reiterate: Even though I’ve predicted the Dodgers to win the Series, you can not root for them unless they were your team through the regular season. Even if you’ve got money down. Rule One is absolute.

Hopeless

I complain a lot* about work preventing me from watching baseball.

* In the real world. I try not to bitch at those of you I only communicate with electronically. But sometimes I gotta.

Sunday, for the first time ever, I was grateful to work for making it impossible for me to watch the Mariners’ play.

It’s no secret that the Mariners can’t win against Houston, at least not since the Astros switched to the American League. Even when Houston sucked, they could count on picking up ten or so wins against hapless Seattle. This season has been no exception: with two games against Houston remaining, the Mariners have an astonishing 1-16 record.

And it all came to a head Sunday night in Texas.

After three innings–three!–the Mariners were down 13-0. (Remember that number. It’s significant.) The Astros added another eight runs before the game was over.

The most frustrating part of the whole affair? Seattle managed exactly one hit and no walks. That’s right. Had it not been for Shed Long’s second major league home run, the Mariners would have been on the losing end of a perfect game.

Sure, if he hadn’t hit it, things might have gone differently. That’s not the point. By the time Long put the Ms on the board, those fans unlucky enough to watch the game had seen ten batters accomplish nothing. And after Long’s hit, the fans watched another seventeen batters do nothing worthwhile.

That’s frustration, concentrated, bottled, and ready for sale. Not that you could find any buyers, but that’s beside the point.

You can’t hope for a rally if nobody gets on base. You need some kind of a tag to attach your dreams to.

A little while back, Jackie talked about doing the math. No amount of math could have helped this one. Sure, the Mariners would only have needed five grand slams to tie the game and force extra innings (where History suggests they would have lost anyway, this being Houston), but you can’t even hope for a grand slam when your batters are whiffing like Little Leaguers.

Yes, the Astros beat Jackie’s Orioles 23-2 earlier this season. But the Os managed six hits in that game. Six! And three walks. That’s nine base runners. An average of one an inning. Enough to build a dream on.

I’m not trying to one-down the Orioles here. Their current record (46-98) leaves plenty of room for depression. And both teams have had some good times this year.

Remember back in April when the Mariners looked like the best team in baseball? And remember those two glorious days in June, the 28th and 29th, when the Orioles set a major league record by beating the Indians 13-0* twice in a row? Wonderful days, those.

* Like I said, thirteen has significance.

But past glories only sustain you so long. Optimism needs a cause.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not having a religious crisis. I’m still watching all the games my work schedule permits. I’ll still be watching the Ms next season.

It’s just…I’d like to be able to say “Just wait until next year!”

Come on, guys. You’ve got seventeen games left–including three against the Orioles. Show me something. Something I can use to pin a little hope on.

Hope that I’ll be watching “Because victories!” not “Because baseball!”

Good Times

The good times never last forever. That’s a universal law–just ask any Warriors fan. It’s true in baseball, and it’s true in technology.

Since I wrote about the winning ways of the Mariners, Orioles, and Giants, the three teams have gone a collective 3-10. It’s not hard to see why: in those thirteen games, they’ve scored 43 runs and given up 86. With run differentials like that, it’s a minor miracle they’ve won any games. (Kudos to the Orioles, who contributed two of the three victories.)

There are around fifty games left in the season. The Mariners are trying to figure out their next few seasons, the Orioles are looking for ways to earn some self-respect, and the Giants are hanging onto a small chance of making the playoffs.

Meanwhile, we’ve recently gotten a lesson in how the universal law applies in the wonderful world of technology.

Maggie’s much-beloved cell phone passed away. Maggie refuses to give up a physical keyboard, so she clung resolutely to her BlackBerry Q10.

Let it be noted that I’m not casting aspersions on her choice. I see the appeal of a physical keyboard and still fondly recall my RIM 750, from back in the days when pagers were state-of-the-art. Where we differ is that I’m not willing to put up with the compromises necessary to have that keyboard.

Those compromises are on the software side of the equation. BlackBerry is, if not the only company still making phones with keyboards, the only one with any actual US distribution. Their latest phones run almost-stock Android–although updates can be erratic–but the Q10 runs BlackBerry’s proprietary operating system.

That, naturally, makes it hard to find software to do some very basic things. Like, for example, back up your data.

There is, or was, a Dropbox client for the Q10. It was hard to install, confusing to configure, and usually refused to run automatically. These are not desirable traits in software you want to back up something as precious as years of cat photos.

Then there are all those years of collected emails, text messages, and the contacts that go with them. Turns out that even though the Q10 requires you to use a GMail account for setup, it only uses GMail for transport. Received emails and contacts live on the device. Contacts can be synced to Google, but it’s a manual process.

Want to see if anything has been backed up to your user account on the carrier’s system? Better hope you don’t have Sprint: they require a two-step authentication process that involves sending a text message to your phone. You know, the phone that doesn’t work.

The lesson here is NOT that BlackBerry sucks or that Sprint is horrible.* It’s not even that one should avoid unusual systems or devices.

* Ironically, it was exactly here that Firefox crashed, taking Windows down with it and forcing me to turn the power off without saving anything. Fortunately, I had just saved two minutes before, so I didn’t have much to recreate.

The lesson is that the good times will end. They’ll be back eventually, sure. But they’ll return much faster if you prepare for them. In baseball, build up your farm system. In computers, backup.

Backup everything. Frequently. Make it part of your daily routine. If you can’t do an automatic backup, do it manually.

Ite, missa est

Which Road?

One can win with brilliance, dogged determination, or sheer luck.

As usual, all three methods are on display in MLB these days.

Consider the bargain basement–or, considering what some of the teams’ Injured Lists look like, maybe it’s the scratch and dent sale.

At the All-Star Break, there were five teams with records under .400: Miami, Toronto, Detroit, Kansas City, and Baltimore. (Seattle scored a Dishonorable Mention at .415 and San Francisco, at .461, was looking almost respectable.)

The picture hasn’t changed much. The bottom-dwellers list is now Toronto, Miami, Kansas City, Baltimore, and Detroit. (Kudos, though to Baltimore for the biggest improvement on the list, going from .303 to .336, putting them in a position to challenge KC for the third-worst record in baseball.) Meanwhile, Seattle has moved up to a staggering .423. That’s especially impressive when you consider that they lost eight of their first ten after the break.

And then there are the Giants, who are now sporting an honestly respectable .509 record with a legitimate shot at the Wild Card.

Which brings us back to where this post started.

The Mariners’ gain is the product of a six-game winning streak against, well, Texas and Detroit. As of today, Texas is sitting precisely at .500–not exactly the mark of a powerhouse. And, indeed, Seattle has won three of the five games the two teams have played since the break. Most of their gain, in other words, has been the result of a fortunate schedule.

Baltimore, on the other hand, has played 18 games since the break. They’ve gone nine and nine against Tampa Bay, Washington, Boston, Arizona, Anaheim, and San Diego: six teams with a combined .517 record.

That doesn’t look like luck. Sure, the truism about any team being able to beat any other team on some random day holds. But watching several of the Orioles’ games didn’t look like luck either. It looked like a team that knew it was the underdog, but was determined to make a stand. Winning half your games is usually a Pyrrhic victory, but when you start out at .303, a victory is a victory.

While Seattle has been lucky and Baltimore has been dogged, San Francisco has been, if not brilliant, at least well-polished. Fourteen and five isn’t solely luck. Yes, they’ve played the Mets and Rockies, but they’ve also played the Brewers, Cubs, Padres, and Phillies, all teams at or above .500. There’s been some determination in there: last night’s win against Philadelphia was their first after losing seven straight in Philadelphia. Most of all, though, the Giants have been succeeding with the fundamentals: well-timed hitting, good-to-excellent pitching, and acceptable fielding.

Different routes, but when it comes to wins, it’s all about the destination, not how you get there. Just ask the fans in San Francisco, Baltimore, and Seattle.

Baseball Hiatus

By the time this post goes live, I’ll be well into my sixth consecutive day with no baseball. A little taste of winter in mid-summer.

Much as I’d like to blame it all on MLB, I have to take some of the blame myself. Sure, it’s partly because of the All-Star Break, but as I’ve noted in the past, the Home Run Derby and the All-Star Game itself are acceptable “almost baseball” events. No, it’s just been an unfortunate conglomeration of poor timing.

Friday we took in our annual minor league game. The ballgame itself was painful, at least for those of us rooting, however nominally, for San Jose. The Giants gave up four runs in the first three innings and never mounted a serious threat of their own. Nor did they keep their opponents* off the bases for the rest of the game, though they did keep them from scoring any more runs.

* The Visalia Rawhide, and isn’t that a name to conjure with?

The game ran long, pushing the fireworks–of course there were fireworks–out past ten. They were worth the wait, though. Proof that a massive aerial bombardment is not a requirement for a spectacular show.

Which reminds me: I need to take back something I said last year. I suggested that MLB should reintroduce the beer batter at the major league level to increase audience engagement. I said, “half-priced soda isn’t going to satisfy anyone when the beer batter comes up in the eighth or ninth.”

I hereby admit I was wrong about that. The San Jose Giants switch to apple juice after beer sales close, and the fans were chanting “Juice! Juice! Juice!” just as enthusiastically as they had earlier chanted “Beer! Beer! Beer!” And yes, sales of juice did jump dramatically when the beerjuice batter struck out in his final at-bat.

Whatever else you can say about the game–and there is a lot I could say, but I’ll spare you–it didn’t lack for engagement.

Anyway, there were ballgames Saturday and Sunday, but a combination of visiting with friends and family and work prevented me from watching. And more of the same prevented me from watching the Home Run Derby Monday or the All-Star Game Tuesday.

No games scheduled Wednesday, and today there’s only a single game–an inter-Texas match-up between the Rangers and Astros. The rest of the MLB teams start playing again tomorrow, but I’ve got a social engagement that will prevent me from watching more than a couple of innings of any of my teams’ games. More sociability will interfere with my viewing Saturday and Sunday. Monday, I may be able to catch part of the Giants/Rockies double-header, and Tuesday I’ll finally be able to settle in and wince at a Mariners’ game.

So, rather than face a ten-day hiatus, I’ll probably watch the game tonight, despite having no particular interest in the outcome. I’m fairly sure total mutual annihilation isn’t a possibility, after all.

Wouldn’t it be a kick in the pants if the game gets rained out? The forecast says there’s only a 20% change of rain, but the universe can be an evil place.

Gods Bless

Mind you, the “God Bless America” fiasco could have been avoided if MLB hadn’t made it part of the seventh inning stretch ceremonies after 9/11.

Now that it’s become an issue, though, how’s this for an idea: drop the song completely.

The break between innings has been made shorter this season as part of the commissioner’s pace of play fetish. Between that song, “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” (which has a much longer tradition behind it), the ever-popular DanceCam/KissCam, and the various staged races (presidents, dots, sausages, etc., etc., etc.), that pause between halves of the seventh inning is getting increasingly crowded.

This is a great opportunity to drop “God Bless America” and return to the status quo ante.

Not going to happen, though. Any attempt to remove the song will be spun as an attack on Christianity, just like the non-existent, so-called “War on Christmas”. Or, for that matter, the protests against restoring the Pledge of Allegiance to its original wording by removing “under God”.

Which is, of course, the whole problem in a nutshell.

Keeping the song offends those of us who think the proper place for deities at sporting events is in the stands, like all the other spectators*. That its presence is also offensive to non-Christians is merely the raspberry buttercream on the chocolate cake.

* Let’s be blunt here: a baseball player’s five tools are hitting for average and power, fielding, throwing, and baserunning. Nothing on that list about praying or otherwise getting God to work a few miracles on behalf of his team.

Removing it offends team owners’ wallets. Or, at least that’s what they think. “A highly visible boycott? Heaven forfend!”

Did you know, by the way, that baseball attendance has not been in decline? For all the fuss the commissioner has made about needing new fans, the total annual attendance across all MLB stadiums since 2000 has consistently been right around 72.5 million. (Which does, by the way, suggest that “God Bless America” has neither helped nor hurt baseball.)

The disruption to tradition hasn’t been in support of rescuing a dying fanbase. It’s about increasing profits, now that ticket prices have reached the point where any further increase would lower demand.

Not that that should surprise anybody.

God Bless Baseball. Some god. Any volunteers? Let’s not always see the same hands…

Admirable

Strictly speaking, I should be writing something about Jackie Robinson today. It is, after all, his day in MLB. Everyone is wearing his number and his name is on everyone’s lips.

And maybe that’s part of my problem–and I emphasize “my” here. Yes, I have strong contrarian tendencies, but that’s not in play here. I wouldn’t not write about Mr. Robinson solely because everyone else is. That would be a form of disrespect for the man and his accomplishments. I try to be better than that.

In truth, the other Jackie said it best: “What Can You Say About Jackie Robinson that Hasn’t Been Said?” She found something, as she so often does. It’s good to be reminded that the Jackie Robinson story didn’t begin in Brooklyn in 1947, or Montreal in 1946, or even Kansas City in 1945. Go read her piece.

I, on the other hand, don’t have anything new to contribute. So, rather than rehash what everyone else is saying about Jackie Robinson, I’d like to say a few words about a different player. A current player.

He’s not going to be remembered as long or as fondly as #42. Or, if he is, it won’t be for the right reasons.

If you follow the sport, you’ve probably already guessed I’m talking about Chris Davis.

I have a sneaking admiration for Mr. Davis.

In 2016, he struck out 219 times. The all-time record for strikeouts in a season is 223, set by Mark Reynolds in 2009. Certainly, baseball has become more accepting of strikeouts since the turn of the century. The highest strikeout total before 2000 was 189 (Bobby Bonds in 1970–and he also had 187 in 1969. Ouch.)

Two hundred nineteen is an impressive record of futility, but it’s not what Chris Davis will be remembered for. Because Chris Davis does hold an MLB record.

Fifty-four consecutive at-bats without a hit. For what it’s worth, 54 is the number worn by Goose Gossage throughout his major league career, including the 1977 season when he struck out 151 batters. Imagine the result if Davis faced Gossage.

Both of them in their respective primes, I mean. Today, Gossage is 67 and he’s probably lost a bit of velocity since ’77 (though history suggests he could still strike Davis out.) And in ’77, Davis wouldn’t have been much of a hitting threat, seeing as how he was still a decade away from being born. Talk about your awkward silences if he’d been announced as the next hitter. And pace of game? Forget it.

But I digress.

I said I admire Davis. Not for his hitting prowess, though to be fair, when he does hit, he hits well. No, I admire his persistence and his ability to put the pressure of the slump aside.

By all reports, he stayed calm as his hitless streak reached historic levels. As George Harrison said, in a slightly different context, “All Things Must Pass“. He didn’t rant and rave, he didn’t bemoan his fate to the media. Equanimity. Grace under pressure. And persistence.

On Saturday, Davis broke the streak in classic fashion, collecting three hits and four RBIs. Mind you, he went 0-4 Sunday and as I write this on Monday morning, he’s 0-1. But the gorilla is off his back. After lugging the five hundred forty pound ape around, a fifty pound chimp is no big deal.

Persistence. He’s still up there swinging. He could be dogging it, playing out his contract–$17 million a year through 2022 and about $40 million over the next fifteen years–or even retiring. But that’s not Chris Davis. And sure, $100 million pays for a lot of patience. Therapy, too, if necessary.

Heck, pay me half of what Chris Davis is making this year, and I’ll go 0-600 on the season with a smile on my face.

But I wouldn’t be getting paid to hit. Chris Davis is. He knows the Orioles’ management is considering their options for getting rid of him. But he still goes out there every day and does what he does.

And that’s why I admire Chris Davis. In his position, I’d have blown up long ago.

That Brightness Ain’t the Sunrise

Yes, I know yesterday’s post was a bit dark. For the record, no I’m not particularly depressed. No need to alert Facebook’s algorithms.

And, speaking of records, the Mariners did set that record–15 games at the beginning of the season with at least one home run–they did win yesterday in a very thrilling come-from-behind fashion, and they now return home bearing the best record in baseball and a four game division lead over the Astros. Who are, coincidentally, the team they’ll be playing for the next three days and who, historically speaking, the Mariners have always had trouble beating. As I said before, it can’t last. But it’s a great ride while it does.

Anyway, how about something cheerful as an antidote to yesterday’s doom and gloom?

12-1

Hang on, let me enhance that a little. Or at least brighten it up a bit.

12-2

Why, look! It’s Lefty, out of the room he shares with Rufus!

Yes, we’ve begun giving him opportunities to explore the upstairs hall. He’s been very cautious about it, not spending much time off his familiar turf, and certainly not letting us close (hence the low resolution of the pictures–they were cropped out of shots taken from halfway across the house).

But he’s taking steps in the right direction. Not only is he broadening his horizons, but he’s also had a couple of opportunities to exchange less-than-flattering personal observations with ‘Nuki.

Now that is a rite of passage!

Finally, lest you think I’ve merely exchanged dark words for dark pictures, here’s something bright and cheerful.

12-3

It’s not often we see these three hanging out together. Enjoy.

Disaster Looms

“It can’t last.”

Any Seattle sportsball fan will know exactly what you mean.

We don’t use the sentence lightly. No, the Mariners aren’t going to win 160 games this season. They’re not even going to win 137 games, which is what their current record projects to. Obviously; not worth mentioning.

Let’s get real. Eighteen years ago today, the best Mariners team in history–by one crude measure, the best team in MLB history–was 6-2. The unspoken assumption in Seattle was that the Ms were one series away from a .500 record. That they kept winning can’t be laid solely at the feats of Ichiro, but he sure contributed mightily. Worth remembering, in this, his final season.

Nobody expects this year’s Mariners to win 116 games.

Good things come in waves, and so do bad things. That doesn’t mean they balance out. A little bad gives the good more savor. A little good gives the bad more intensity. Some clouds have a tin foil lining. Some roses smell as sweet as what comes out of the back end of a cow.

The latest predictions give the Mariners 81 wins and a 13.7% chance of making the playoffs. Before the season, they were expected to win 75, with only a 2.3% chance of playing into October.

Seattleites don’t expect a .500 season. They say “It can’t last” and “The original prediction sounds more accurate.”

Starting the season with thirteen straight games with at least one home run? “It can’t last.”

Seattle lost a major league, former champion hockey team and a major league, former champion basketball team. Lost an epically bad major league baseball team after one season. After going 116-46, the record-setting Mariners lost the ALCS to the Yankees; the next year they finished 93-69 and missed the playoffs by 6 games.

Failure isn’t a way of life. It’s the way of life.

I’m writing this post Wednesday, shortly before the Mariners take the field against the Kansas City Royals. They’re looking to win the series, go 12-2, and tie the record for games with a home run to start the season*.

* Yes, including those games in Japan. Just because they don’t feel real doesn’t mean MLB won’t count them.

I expect them to lose. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see them get shut out and start a ten game losing streak.

Because it can’t last.

But it’s sure fun while it does. See you at the ballpark.

(Post-Game Update: The Mariners won the game and hit a home run. No doubt the expected shutout and losing streak will start tomorrow. Won’t stop me from watching.)