The baseball gods owe us one, and Atlanta's about to find out what happens when a patient fanbase's patience finally runs out.

Being down in Atlanta with a 1-0 lead in the first inning feels like the baseball gods testing whether I can handle hope again.

We're in Atlanta getting shelled in the second inning and I've learned enough about this team to know that's exactly when they decide to remember they're the Giants.

Five zip through three innings means the Braves are about to remember they're in Atlanta and we're about to remember why we haven't won since 2014.

We've seen this movie before—a five-run lead in the fifth is like having Barry Bonds at the plate with two outs and a full count, which means absolutely nothing until the final out is recorded.

The Braves have had plenty of chances to chip away at a four-run deficit against our bullpen, which means we're absolutely blowing this in the eighth inning.

The baseball gods owe us something after fifteen years of watching paint dry, and they're finally paying up three runs at a time.

The Braves are dangerous but we've seen enough bullpen dominance in the eighth inning over the years to know this three-run lead feels like a win already.

I've seen five-run leads evaporate faster than my faith in this front office, so I'm not uncorking anything until the final out is recorded.

The Giants are coming to Atlanta like a man trying to rob a house where the owner's been waiting on the porch with a shotgun since 1991.

The Giants are about to learn what happens when you spot a Braves team with a fully healthy farm system and Acuña in the lineup one measly run in the first inning.

Down 5-0 in the second inning feels like watching those 90s teams all over again—beautiful on paper, cursed in execution—and I'm not about to pretend this ship rights itself.

Down 5-0 in the third inning is exactly when the baseball gods remember we've suffered enough to deserve one night of mercy.

Down 5-0 in the fifth at home in Atlanta, this team's seen worse nights at Truist than this and found a way, so I'm not ready to pack it in just yet.

The Braves are like a championship boxer down on the scoreboard after six rounds—they've got the conditioning, the corner knows what's coming, and I've seen this movie end with their hand raised too many times to count the rounds we're losing.

We didn't wait 26 years between rings to lose to the Giants in July when we got Acuña back and a farm system that won't quit.

We've seen worse deficits disappear faster than the '90s pennant hopes, but this ain't 1995 and the Giants aren't choking like they used to, so the baseball gods probably want their cosmic joke to hurt a little longer.

We're not done here because I've seen this team claw back from worse and besides, the Giants are about to remember they're frauds in the ninth inning like they always do.