(Idea h/t to Amanda Rykoff)

With apologies to the Blue Jays, Orioles, Indians, Royals, Twins, Rangers, Mariners, Athletics, Nationals, Mets, Braves, Cubs, Pirates, Brewers, Reds, Padres and Dodgers.

We have waited.

Since Luis Gonzalez blooped and since the demons of the Angels and since the great ALCS hangover and since the Collapse and since the Angels again and since the underachievers and since the midges and since the Final Season.

Since Spring Training ‘roids scandals, since an inauspicious start, since April rain, since 0-8, since having to start a .190 AA catcher (and the dreamy eyes of doom), since a Return, since the first walk off, since a dropped pop up, since the Boston Sweep Party, since it was cold, then warm, then cold again.

Since the start of October, since the excision of demons with one ninth-inning swing, since parting finally with the idle among us, since out-fundamentalling a team that couldn’t handle cold weather, since Halloween, since fall back weekend.

We have waited.

Now there is only one thing left us: One more win.

So close, and still we wait.

We wait as the college basketball season starts and football reaches the midpoint of the season.

We wait, leaving no discussion point unturned: Can Andy pitch on three days’ rest? Should Girardi be fired if Hairston starts for Swisher? Can Mariano pitch two? Even three? Will it rain? Is Utley still the MVP even if the Phillies lose?

We come up with playoff play lists and theorize as to how much someone would have to pay for us to part with game six tickets. We muse about the travesty of nightfall at 5.30 in the afternoon and laugh as beat writers post game threads 24 hours in advance (a mistake, they say…).

We wait.

In Spanish, the verb “esperar” means to wait.

It also means to hope.

We wait, and we hope.