There are moments when you remember why you wake up in the morning, why you do anything worthwhile.

Then you look up and see the silliness that makes all of it worthless.

It’s a thin line and there’s little difference and little ways to influence it to factor in your favor.

But a meaty fastball to a power hitter is just that. There’s nothing that can be done to alter its direction. You just have to watch it and hope for the best.

The best being a foul ball that leaves the batter questioning himself, the TV analyst to review his most recent stretch and the on-deck batter licking his chops.

But the more likely result is a long fly ball that I will know from the sound of the bat.

It’s what we all attempt to avoid, but is inevitable with all of us.