One month. Think about it. How can one month change so much?

It was all running parallel with this plan you created, they created. A plan made before it all began, before it even mounted the horizon. Pieces from places unthought of and pieces already in place. They make up this shiny new thing you expected to conquer the world with and celebrate it long into that spring night and wake up the next morning with nothing but a satisfactory hangover. Contentment riding on the dawn.

You were winning, in the regular sense of the word. And you were winning like Charlie Sheen or Raoul Duke, without the artificiality:

There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning…”

It may not have been universal, but it felt right. You were winning and it felt right.

But then, as if ordained by a force higher and more evil than you, things happen. Things unexpected and unimaginable. They bite at you like mosquitoes on a balmy December night and they’re relentless. With every passing day you see cracks appear and hope they’re not deep. You hope the multitude of possible quick fixes will suffice the strain and see you through.

After a week you feel it in the back of your mind and, perhaps, in your gut. A feeling of uneasiness that won’t leave you. You look to the past and ignore the naysayers. Complete doubt hadn’t even turned the corner yet, but it would. Three weeks passed and the fissures appeared. The problems were so deeply unfathomable that their true nature couldn’t be discerned until after the end.

And, of course, empty hope infected you on days when the sky cleared. Days where you wanted the sun to shine and night to stay in the East. But she never stuck around and it all came down to a single hour of a single night in September. You sat there listening with gut-wrenching concentration, alone. Living for tomorrow was just 60 feet and a whiff away.

Then the culmination of a month’s turmoil came to a head and within five minutes it was over. That feeling of complete mental and physical defeat washes over you and gravity’s effect heightens and depression pervades you. All is lost.

The aftermath takes its casualties and you don’t agree. Change is needed and necessary and inevitable. So, you’ll wait and watch the others relish in their situations and you’ll be envious. They’ll all drop like flies, except for one, and you can only hope the one left standing isn’t either of the two you hate hold a mutual, but not equal, and severe dislike for.

You’ll wait for next year. For Spring Training, the start of a new season and the chance for redemption, and forget September ever existed.