The other day, I was enjoying a soup and sandwich with a good friend at my favorite local diner. As I started my meal, a gentleman with no apparent common courtesy let out a massive muculicious cough. I looked over in disgust to see if he'd hacked a black lung into his food, but I couldn't quite see because the curtain partition atop the dividing wall mostly blocked my view. I saw that it was an old man and quickly lost interest and reverted my attention to my soup. A few minutes later, I looked over and the man was gone. I stood up to investigate because his disappearance was very stealth. I soon realized that there was no table there, no chair, no person and no black lung. On the other side of the dividing wall was an aisle-way. I asked my friend if he'd seen the man who was just sitting there. He said no. I froze. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was crazy. A million questions about reality and all things philosophical fluttered through my perplexed little mind. I was dazed. Then, just before I got up and checked myself into a psych ward, my friend said, "You mean that guy?" I turned my head to see an old man in a wheelchair swiftly rolling by. That was just the comic relief I needed, because I would have questioned my mental stability for the rest of my life. The laughing, however, ceased when I told my friend I was relieved to know I wasn't crazy because he responded with: "You are crazy, you're a Royals fan."
Sometimes I think being a Royals fan is a mental disorder. It's been said that insanity is defined as repeating the same task over and over, expecting different results. If that doesn't define you as a Royals fan, then you aren't a Royals fan. Check your heart. Sometimes I wish baseball fans of other teams could have a similar experience to my restaurant experience today, and experience this mental disorder. Let's be honest, they are an exceedingly poor team with little chance of winning a World Series in the near future. In fact, Fangraphs has Kansas City as the 4th least likely team to win a World Series title in the future. Evidently, the Royals are so uninteresting to the outside world that they didn't even get their own write-up. Even with that said, I find myself at Kauffman Stadium every year. Insane.
I think I'll be okay, though. Looking into the future (which you can do when you are bat-shit crazy), I will be 65 years old and senile with more imaginary friends than John Nash when the Royals win their next World Series. Then I will finally be able to climb back onto my damn rocker.