Welcome to the end of the season, Spies.
We do not yet know for certain whether the playoffs are in our grasp. We seem to have been denied the opportunity to party once again. Our players languish on the field, iron- and defense-deficient. And yet, we succeed. Such is our lot, our curse: spies win, indeed.
And we do, in fact, win. Over the past unknowable unit of time, we have won 16 games and lost 12. We have lost two wins due to Black Hole and gained one due to Sun 2. We also shamed the Hellmouth Sunbeams—the leading team in our division—three times on Days 71, 88, and 90, and shamed ourselves on Day 77.
Please, Spies. Let Fitz use their crazy straw again. I hear Reese has a new collection of novelty glasses and mustaches to try out. Son would look so cute in a little hat. If we may not party this season due to being burdened with the intensity of our talent, please—tank it next season. We’re worried about your blood levels.
Good luck out there, Spies. Whatever happens.