Standards

Today's post is about standards. When and where a high standard should be expected and when and where we expect the worst just in case we can be delighted by something above average. And how maybe, just maybe, we shouldn't expect anything, from anyone, ever. So we can always be overjoyed when things turn out alright.

I'll start with the low standards. Or maybe, I should clarify, no standards. This weekend was the inaugural Landmark Festival here in DC: a 2-day, 40 performer music festival taking place in West Potomac Park, on the outskirts of the National Mall. Two of the stages had incredible views of the Washington Monument and Rosslyn, and the main stage was set directly beneath the "super Blood Moon" and total lunar eclipse. Watching/battle-dancing along to the Strokes and watching the moon slowly but surely fade into total darkness is something I shall always cherish. 

Having been to a few festivals, and knowing that this was the first year for this lil festy, I didn't set the bar too high. There was no bar. I didn't go into it expecting to be blown away or to be disappointed, I just expected it to be. The only thing I set my mind to was internal: to not drink, at all, and to make sure I had enough layers, because being cold is the worst. For the festy itself, I just decided whatever would happen would happen. And because of that, I came out of it happier. Sure, day 1 had loads of problems. I waited in line for a porta potty for approximately 5 hours [editor's note: while in this line, I made friends with my fellow queue-goers, and even had a friend hunt for me for about 10 minutes, and then stand with me for another 10...all while not moving any closer] and by the time I got hungry enough to get food, lines were longer than the security check-points to see the Pope and everything worth getting was sold out. Day 2 miraculously was devoid of any such problems - in fact I never waited for anything. The beer lines mercifully appeared short and quick and I got food rather painlessly. 

The best part of the whole shebang was the ease in which you could get close to the bands. If I had to compare the two, I'd say Firefly was the festival with no chill. None at all. If you wanted to see someone even sorta up close, well you certainly weren't seeing anyone else. You were at the stage hours early, probably watching some band that you had no interest in, and to boot you were packed in like sardines (and of course you were probably 40 people back and behind someone super tall guy with a mohawk, making out with his girlfriend, and doing so with such grace that you were basically getting slobbered on yourself). Landmark was different. Maybe the crowds aren't used to the fEsTy LiFe, or the DC crowd just didn’t care...whatever the reason, it was very easy to get a good view. I got to Chvrches 15 minutes before they were due to come on and I was so close to lil angel Lauren that I felt like we were about to be best friends. For every other band, walking a little to the side of the stage offered super close ups as well, and when you wanted to sit and take it all in, you weren’t a million miles away. Nay, you were within a perfect viewing distance and could jam out on the ground with no one in your immediate bubble and without fear of being trampled. All in all, it was rather perfect.

The Post gave it a rather scathing review and I can agree with parts of it – the lines on day 1, as previously mentioned, were horrible, and Drake was kinda lamesauce….but the rest was TO BE EXPECTED for a festival in its first year. If you went in expecting nothing, you got everything. And the best part? No camping! It wasn’t hot! It was super close to my apartment! And…Chvrches <3. They are so lovely. So so so lovely.

Now, for high standards: Nationals WHAT is going on? Why have you forsaken me and my family and my city? On top of being eliminated from even hoping to be in the playoffs, you go and pull this Papelbon – Harper choking stunt. I’m Team Harper here. This guy plays like a madman day in and day out and has learned his lesson from “not hustling” in the past. Papelbitch, you are new to this team, have no standing in this clubhouse and HOW DARE YOU just attack my baby Bryce. Get over yourself and chill the F out once in a while. His little smile as he walked away from that fight is going to haunt me the rest of my life. You, my enemy, are a psychopath.

My standards for this team were cautiously high. The predictions were them were too good to be true – World Series favorites? Give me a break. Putting that kind of pressure on them is too much, especially given their historical post season choking (no pun intended) habits and the fact that something like half the team is about to be a free agent was a recipe for disaster, and sure enough, the recipe bombed. No bake competitions being won this year. Maybe not for several years.  And definitely not post 2019 when Harper undoubtedly becomes a Yankee. Despite knowing this season would go nowhere, I harbored a secret fantasy that perhaps something magical would happen. I mean c’mon. We have Scherzer! Bryce is pure fire. Strasburg wasn’t so bad! ZIMMERMANN! We should’ve been unstoppable.

Stoppable we were. Mix in weird decisions from Matt Williams, Ian Desmond’s lackluster beginning and Scherzer’s incredible flame out post All-Star break, and you’ve got yourself the biggest disappointment since Sprite Remix was discontinued. Why did we acquire Papelboner? Just to upset and disorient Drew Storen, it seems. Why did we give away Tyler Clippard just to get the Will Ferrell lookalike, Casey Janssen? To save a few mil? Good god Janseen was the worst!! Why was the first fan-giveaway I got a metal tin, with no handles? I can’t even use that stupid thing for a lunch box! And above all – why did we get a Pet Calendar that only featured dogs? Call it a dog calendar or add in a effing parakeet. I was outraged.

The conclusion here is that we (and I) never should’ve had any expectations from this team to begin with. Hope for above .500 and keep mum on the rest – the more we talk, the more we’re destined to be let down. Maybe it’s a good thing we aren’t going to the playoffs, I think I need some time to cool off. I’ll miss Desi, Zimmermann, Span, Fister, and Escobar terribly. All great clubhouse guys, all true examples of players DC could believe in. Desi especially, a true class act. My parents witnessed him at Spring Training tell ask a young boy, who’s birthday it was, what him and his mom were doing the rest of the day (after the game). They said nothing, the game was the big event of the day. Desi immediately offered to take them out to get food. After Twitter stalking later, my parents discovered that he did it! They all went out and got lunch on Ian. I think my mom cried.

Ugh. I guess 2015 wasn’t meant to be our year.