My beloved future wife Krissy is a very superstitious sort when it comes to her Michigan State Spartans. Because she gets so invested in their games, many times she refuses to watch when things start to go bad for her team. For big games, when I want to watch with her, she sometimes spends half the time in the bedroom getting update texts from her friend Josh instead of watching the game with me.

Of course, this fascinates and irritates me. I mean, I also have little superstitions regarding some of the teams I root for. Mainly, if I turn on a game and the tide turns against the Colts or the Indiana Hoosiers, I’ll turn off the game. If I turn it on and they start to do well, I’ll keep watching, and so on.

I think my superstition was proven on Sunday.

We hadn’t been to Seattle in a long time. It’s only 110 miles or so, but we’re saving for a wedding, and Seattle sucks our money out like a Dyson on high speed. This time, though, we had some spare change so we went over to the Fremont Sunday Market, a neat Cuban / Caribbean sandwich shop, and a great pet store for our dog (gotta keep the dog in treats, you know).

On the way over, we listened to the radio, but around Snoqualmie Pass we’re in no-radio-land, so we switched over to the Hamilton soundtrack. That took us to the Mercer Street exit on I-5, and from there we listened to a Seattle station and discussed why the Foo Fighters were classic rock all of a sudden, and why weren’t the Smiths and the Cure.

Anyway, after the market, we got our sandwiches at this little sandwich stand. There was no place to sit, so we ate our messy Cuban pulled pork sandwiches in the car, trying our best not to get the aioli smeared on the upholstery. While we were waiting, I flipped over to the Mariners game. They were playing the Brewers, and it was a big game for Seattle. The M’s were just a game behind for the second wild card, and teams around them were losing. Beating the Brewers, a team playing youngsters and what-nots trying to stay ahead of the Reds, was critical.

Seattle jumped all over Matt Garza (no big shock, right?) in the third inning, plating three runs. We started the car and drove to the pet store in Issaquah, and when we returned with our booty of treats the Mariners were in the process of chasing Garza out of the game with another three-spot in the fourth.

Up 6-1 against a team now having to go to their long relief seemed like a good bet. So after getting our take-out Chipotle for dinner, we headed home. Krissy wanted to listen to the second half of Hamilton, so we did as a 6-1 lead seemed safe, plus with only 45 days before our wedding I don’t think it’s a good time to rile up the bride. I realized it’s hard to drive on a mountain pass when you’re crying during the songs depicting Alexander and Eliza’s son’s death.

When the musical was over, I didn’t even think about the game, and flipped over to another local station for the drive through the scenic ridge on State Road 10 overlooking the Yakima River, and marveling how just 50 years ago semis had to drive on it as I-90 wasn’t completed yet.

We got home, and unloaded, and I went to the tablet to see what the final score was.

I was shocked and dismayed. The Brewers, behind two home runs from Keon Broxton and a big blast from Chris Carter, had taken a 7-6 lead into the bottom of the ninth. I watched on the tablet as the Mariners got a runner on second in the ninth, but could not plate him. Tyler Thornburg accomplished the rare feat of pitching the eighth for Milwaukee, getting the win, and then coming out to finish up the game like he was Rollie Fingers or someone.

So, it was a big loss. Crushing, actually. I reacted in the most rational way possible:

“Krissy! You caused the Mariners to lose!”

“It’s not my fault.”

“Yes it is, you wanted to listen to Hamilton.”

“So….”

“They wouldn’t have lost if we kept listening to them.”

“That’s silly.”

“I’ll remind you of that this fall during Spartans football games.”

Don’t mess with my ju-ju, or something like that.

Though, to be honest, I had only been keeping track of the Mariners tangentially during the Olympics and they’ve been on a tear. So…it may be my fault that they lose on the one day I listen to them.

Nah…it’s Krissy’s fault