Just Dance

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking the Darling Asteroids start the second half with a 76-87-5 record, good for ninth in the league.

You're thinking that we have one win in the last two and a half months, which is downright embarrassing.

And you're thinking that the only way out of this funk, the only way to shake the cobwebs from the Darlings, to rattle their cages, to make them feel alive...is with a three-act interpretive dance.

You're right, my friends. I was thinking the same thing.

This can't fail.

Act One, "A Love Letter to Opening Day," begins with a flourish. A low rumble in the distance slowly grows, finally exploding with trumpets as hope springs eternal for our baseball heroes.

Ryan Sweeney prances about with sweeping hand gestures and leaps galore as the energy of a new year flows through his veins. He has never been happier, and cannot contain himself.

Ted Lilly and Matt Wieters stand face to face. A testament to the bond between pitcher and catcher, they are one.

Lilly raises his left hand, the hand that guides his fate and the fate of the Cubs. He stares at Matt.

They are one.

Wieters raises his right hand, which will throw out baserunners for years to come. He stares at Ted.

They are one.

Jon Rauch emerges behind Lilly, Orlando Hudson behind Wieters. All four men stand silently for what seems like an eternity.

Suddenly, without warning and all of a sudden, they break dance. A glorious blur of popping, locking, moving and shaking.

Rauch busts out a mean robot. Someone had to.

Through the magic of dance they have come to understand and respect each other.

However, the end of the act closes with a jolt. The music stops as Sweeney is mid-pirouette. He stumbles.

The stage goes dark. A man arises from the darkness, bringing with him a bloated ERA and damaged ego.

Thus begins Act Two, "The Death of Frank Francisco."

Frank rises achingly, painstakingly, heart-breakingly slow. Each movement is a triumph of will power.

Sirens wail. Red lights, the color of passion, flash like a discotheque.

All the while, our hero moves slowly. He is unaware of the chaos and destruction around him. It's all very meaningful. You probably don't get it.

Pictured: symbolism.

The music stops. He comes set, winds up, and delivers a pitch. We hear the crack of the bat, followed by slow, melancholy violin strings.

Bathed in purple light, our hero is wounded. He crawls slowly toward stage left as the strings build.

Finally, he collapses. The strings fade away. The spotlight is off.

After what feels like forever, we see movement. A soft light appears at center stage.

On all fours, our hero crawls into the light and into Act Three, "The Ballad of Ryan Howard."

This act, like Mr. Howard every season, begins slowly. Our hero rises. His wobbly knees make us nervous...but do not fear, friends.

A career resurgence is in the works for our new hero, Mr. Vladimir Guerrero.

Suddenly horns are blaring from every direction.

He bounces around the stage, violently kicking and punching through the music, beating back the midsummer slumps that threaten to derail a season.

After minutes of flailing about, the tension builds. Vlad has burst through the dog days of summer and emerged in a groove. Nothing gets by him.

In a brilliant crescendo, more and more horns roar as he stands, defiant and victorious, socking each fastball, each curveball, each hanging slider back from whence it came in a tornado-like spiraling of energy.

He flips, he lunges, he dives around the stage.

Lovers cry. Poets dream. Pablo Sandoval wails with joy like a housewife at Oprah's "Favorite Things" special.

"It's a tale of redemption...and you're all getting one!"

The music builds and builds and builds until finally exploding with one loud, resounding note as confetti rains over our hero.

Evan Longoria and Stephen Strasburg, our hope for the future, descend from the heavens. Each carries a World Series trophy.

Drenched in sweat and victory, the three round the bases together.

When they reach home, the rest of the Darlings roster is waiting for them.

Our three heroes throw off their helmets and leap triumphantly into the joyously bouncing mob. Order has been restored, the battle has been won.

You were right, friends. That was just what the Darling Asteroids needed.