Something interesting happened last night. It has determined your Weekend Gene Pool challenge for this week. Apologies to people uninterested in sports, but as you will see, this has implications waay beyond the athletic arts. So please stick with this.
I went to bed before the end of World Series Game Six, so I found out about it just two hours ago, from The Web. Phenomenal final moment, everyone said. Google the words “wild play” and “game six, “ and you will be drowned in sportsbabble. Some of the best, most seasoned play-by-play media people called it like that: a ninth-inning finale for the ages. I awoke to a text message from a close friend: “You gotta watch the final play!” Wild play!
I watched it, and got back to him, and asked him what the hell he was talking about. He elaborated:
“A sprinting, shoestring catch and a frozen rope to second for a bang-bang double play to save the season!”
I watched it again.
No. No, it was none of that, except for the season-saving part. It was a semi-ordinary play attributable to commonplace bonehead base-running. The fielder was hustling but not “sprinting.” His catch was not remotely “shoestring.” He caught it easily, shoulder-high, a Little-League gimme. His throw was not a frozen rope to second — it had the arc of a Double Dutch skip-rope. It bounced en route. The play was close at second, but not “bang-bang.” It was, basically, “thud (beat) thud.” Instant replay was not needed. The baserunner was caught too far off second to avoid a double play; it’s a dime a dozen miscalculation, seen hundreds of times during a season.
What happened here? I contend there was a huge disconnect between people who saw the last play live, and those like me who watched it after the fact -- that play alone — without getting disoriented and confused by the heart-thumping drama leading up to it. I contend the first group was overstimulated into overreaction — their expertise being overcome by emotion.
Watch it via the link above. Even if you saw it live yesterday and felt otherwise, I think you might agree with me today, in the cool light of reason.
So. Today’s challenge: Tell us of a time where the emotion or excitement of a moment led you to instantly overestimate or exaggerate its actual importance, positively or negatively. Your story can be about any subject — any area of perception and experience. It doesn’t have to be about public events: Purely personal issues would be fine. Small but significant is fine. Earnest is okay, but funny is best. Funny is always best.
I have a bunch of personal examples, the most recent of which occurred on September 10, 2024 at 9:21 p.m. in Philadelphia, during the debate between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris. I was watching at home when this happened:

And I decided the election was over. Not just because Trump was being overtly, savagely, banally racist, even for him, but because of how perfect Harris’s response was. There she was, a smart younger woman, laughing at him, dismissing him as the doddering old bigoted fool who will believe anything he hears that confirms his venomous, corrosive worldviews.
So, you know how that went.
Please send your moment here, to your Moment Place.
My Moment Place
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Good.
Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:
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| What did you think of the dog-eating moment, initially? (At the time -- not now, in retrospect.) | |
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And finally, from today’s mailbag:
Q: It was impossible not to note from your poll the other day that women preferred ice cream to oral sex, but men did not. I do find myself believing that men are interpreting the question as RECEIVING oral sex, and women are interpreting it as ADMINISTERING oral sex. Am I wrong?
A: You might be right, which would be sad. See below.
Q: A minor flaw in your poll: you did not specify whether “oral sex“ is giving or receiving. Receiving is implied, but the results would be more illuminating were the distinction drawn.
A: Okay, okay! Today’s second Gene Pool Gene Poll:
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| Please choose the better answer in your category. | |
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