THE MAGNITUDE OF THE SUCKAGE

Normally, a six game string in which all three of my teams have a chance to knock each other around would be like Christmas. Win some, lose some, see some of my cherished players going mano a mano. Bonds vs. Soriano vs. Ramirez. It's like a dream. And in a decidedly dreamy fashion, the Nationals sweeping the Cubs and then the Giants, it was almost Christmas. Almost.

You see, I got three toys for Christmas. One big robot that barely works and two smaller robots with broken parts and squeaky joints. The little robots -- Chicago and San Francisco -- got clobbered, in some instances humiliated, by the big robot. That's a shame since all the little robots had to do was kick the big robot in it's plastic shins and watch it tumble to the ground in a heap of springs.

Aye, somebody's been tinkering under the hood of the big robot, tightening screws and oiling where oil goes, replacing worn triple-A Eveready's with surprisingly efficient NiCads. But is the big robot really working better? Or did it just dismiss the little guys like you and I dismiss illiterate people or people who chew with their mouths open?

Oh, it's too bad that the Cubs and Giants stink so bad. I mean, they reek. The Nationals, even after winning 6 games in a row, are comfortably below .500 and still more than 14 games out of first place. In other words, they're still dead last. Sigh.

So, Christmas for me these last few days is, perhaps, better than a stocking full of coals, but at least coals I can burn. They, unlike my teams, can make me feel warm and toasty.