23-35

I'll say right now that, when Felix struggles, so does my mood. So much of my identity as a Mariner fan is tied up in Felix that I can't stand it when he underachieves. It whisks me away to a time, a bad time, a time when things were so much worse than they are for us now. I hate that time. I thought that we'd put it behind us. I never like dropping in for a visit.

With that said, given the loss tonight and the matchups the next two days, I think it's time for all of us to come to understand a certain difference. And that difference is the difference between hope, and realistic hope.

As Mariner fans - as sports fans - we'll always have hope. We'll always have hope that we can win a game, until we lose it. We'll always have hope that we can make the playoffs, until we miss them. And we'll always have hope that we'll be better in the future, until the future sucks. Hope is as simple as being able to envision success, and then wishing it will happen. Wherever there is possibility, there is hope.

Realistic hope is a whole other kettle of fish. Realistic hope doesn't exist when the probably is greater than zero. Realistic hope exists when the probability is above some lower threshold of significance. If the M's are behind 10-1, for example, there'll be hope (just one grand slam, and then maybe some baserunners...), but there won't be realistic hope (we never go deep and we never get baserunners). If the M's are behind 4-3, there'll be both.

We're to the point now in the season that we're approaching that threshold with regard to winning the division. Or maybe we've already passed it by. I don't know. I'm not sure which game is The Game that makes all the difference. But what I do know is that, while each of us can still imagine the M's making a run and the rest of the division stumbling, the longer we sit way down in the basement, the longer the odds become. At some point, we're praying for a miracle. Maybe not a resurrection-level miracle, but a miracle in the way that making it all the way home from the mountains with the gas light on is a miracle. It isn't impossible, but you'd really rather not be in that situation in the first place.

And as we all know, no one wants to be left hoping for a miracle. 1995 was a magnificent thing that happened to this organization and its fan base, but in a lot of ways, it was also a disaster, in that it established in a lot of minds that giving up is never an option. So many people always want to try and recapture that magic, but the thing that made it magic in the first place is that it was borderline impossible. It was magic because the M's would never in a thousand years do it again. You have to be realistic. You're always free to cling on to some last shreds of hope, but in your heart you have to possess an understanding of the situation.

I can't tell if we've been reduced to hoping for a miracle yet, but if we haven't, we're damn close. Closer than we ever thought we'd be in early June, and certainly closer than we ever wanted to be. Can they do it? Sure, they can do it. Will they do it? I don't have the answer, but I'd be more confident in saying 'no' than I've been all season long. It looks like it's time to get realistic. Both for us as fans, and for them as an organization. 2010 almost certainly isn't going to be the Mariners' year. And with that fate all but sealed, it's about time to turn the focus to making 2011 a year to remember.