Game seven of the 2016 World Series was played six nights before the presidential election.
As a Cleveland Indians fan who's also a political lefty, a friend asked me if one had to lose, who would I prefer: the Indians or Hillary Clinton?
Obviously, I prefer my country to the trivialities of baseball, but it was still fun to think about.
Fun because, at one point, it was pretty inconceivable of either losing.
The Indians were up three games to one against the Cubs while Clinton was decimating Trump in the polls.
If my childhood team blew the World Series for the *third time* in my life, I would be inconsolable for days. Weeks.
If Clinton lost, Trump's win would bring a helluva lot more misery and unknowns than the simple sting of a competition. But at least I would suffer in solidarity with friends, right?
And then, both lost.
As a Cleveland sports fan, I wasn't terribly surprised. But Clinton? I don't care what anyone says: That shit is still unfathomable.
Through dwelling in the hows and whys and figuring out what the hell comes next, I felt my biggest sense of reprieve by comparing the parallels of both losses.
The ups and downs of last summer.
That history would have been made.
The article from FiveThirtyEight that will be forever etched in my memory and will also be my excuse to abandon data-driven journalism (or might it be my subconscious attempt to conform to the age of Trump?).
When this poor coping mechanism fails, I think about what I told my friend: the idea of suffering in solidarity.
Sure it was a joke, but if there's a the faintest silver lining from this election, it's that a fire was lit under the asses of a lot of apolitical people around me.
Though the long-standing mantra of suffering Cleveland fans — "There's always next year!" — doesn't apply to the American presidential election, unlike the Indians, I'm confident about the momentum going forward.
In the meantime, remember to laugh.