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Great Expectations — Dashed Once Again by the New York Mets
Do you remember reading the novel Great Expectations by Charles Dickens in high school? I’m pretty sure I read it when I was a freshman, but I don’t actually remember a lot of the specific details. I do recall that the main character, Pip, was rather poor and raised by his sister and her husband, but Pip had “great expectations” placed upon him because a secret individual paid for Pip’s education due to a kindness Pip had previously performed. In a totally unrelated manner, I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about the great expectations that I placed upon my New York Mets this year, expectations, unfortunately, that have gone unfulfilled.
Expectations in general are a tricky subject. For instance, if I expect my wife to prepare a meal for me every evening, and for some reason, she fails to do so, I might be disappointed. If, however, she’s working long hours on a project and unable to cook for a spell, I lower my expectations, and my disappointment at the lack of a prepared meal disappears. In that case, too, I might order some food and bring it home, or I might even cook myself.
