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Apologies to Woofing Gods

To start this off, I'm not a superstitious person. I don't mind talk about the playoff rotation or the A's magic number. I step on cracks all the time while passing under ladders. However, there are some things I am not dumb enough to do.

"Screwing" the baseball gods is like jumping onto the railroad tracks and flipping off a train, and then daring it to hit you. The A's have gone hot and cold before, so if it happens again no else will suspect the gods' treachery. Imagine those ESPN guys leaning back in their chairs, chuckling over another heartbreaking season in Oakland. And it will be blamed on the lack of intangibles, and the fact that the A's just aren't a playoff ballclub. Only you will know what really happened: it's your fault that the A's, the team that makes life worth living, missed the playoffs and that somewhere Rev Halofan is laughing.

So, this diary is a place for you to beg forgiveness. If you want there to be any chance of the A's beating Liriano tomorrow and getting green-hot again, you have to do it. Acknowledge that there are three levels of being: helpless fans and players, the Big Hurt, and then the woofing gods, who can do whatever the hell they want.

 For those of you who just love to be rebels, how about you wait until we win the world series, and then do whatever you want?