Hello? Is it me you’re looking for? I see you caressing a butter sculpture of my face. It’s not weird, just a little…out of place. I mean, I thought our relationship was me being the whiffonator, and you being a feasting fantasy baseballer who can’t get enough whiffs. Supply and demand. Basic economics. 

Which is the long way of saying: we’re down to, like, 14ish games left in the season. From a writer’s standpoint, we are in meaningless territory. A player slumps, and it’s nothing more than variance. Unpredictable downtime. A player surges, and how can we tell whether it’s playoff adrenaline or they’re just flipping the coin lucky-side first? For the most part, we can’t.