The Marlins will probably find a creative new way to break my heart in Tampa, but hey, at least I won't have to watch an empty stadium while it happens.

The Marlins are already losing in a 0-0 game because that's somehow possible when you're a fan of this beautifully cursed franchise.

We're down one run in the first inning which means we're basically already in our championship form since that's exactly how much fight we showed before selling off the '97 and '03 teams.

The Marlins are down by one in the second inning, which in Marlins math means we're practically tied and ready to break some hearts in Tampa before trading our entire lineup by Thursday.

We're only down by one which in Marlins math means we're basically tied, and I've seen this scrappy team pull miracles out of thin air just often enough to keep me coming back to this beautiful, half-empty stadium.

The Marlins are tied 1-1 which means we're already overperforming expectations, so clearly we're destined to win this one before trading everyone involved by Thursday.

The Marlins are up by one in the third which means we have exactly six more innings to find a creative way to break my heart, but hey, at least the dozen of us watching will have company in our misery.

The Marlins are winning in the 4th which means we have exactly five more innings to find new and creative ways to break my heart, but hey, at least there's no crowd to witness the inevitable collapse.

The Marlins are down by two which means they're exactly where they need to be to break my heart in the ninth inning, so naturally they'll win this one because I've already mentally prepared for disappointment.

Five innings is plenty of time for our mysteriously competent bullpen to blow a lead we don't have while their mysteriously incompetent bullpen blows the lead they do have.

Well, we've got four innings left and the Marlins have already exceeded my expectations by scoring twice, so anything's possible when you're used to disappointment being the baseline.

The Marlins are down by three which means they're exactly where they need to be to break my heart in the most creative way possible.

Down four runs in the seventh against the Rays is just another Tuesday night for a franchise that treats competitiveness like a seasonal rental player.

Down by four in the eighth with our bullpen that's held together by prayer and whatever's left in the training budget after they traded away everyone who could actually hit - we've got them right where we want them.

The Marlins are down by three in the eighth which means we're right on schedule for our annual "show just enough fight to break your heart before September" performance.

Down three in the ninth with our bullpen already blown up is just another Tuesday night in Marlins paradise, so naturally we're about to stage the most improbable comeback that twelve fans in attendance will ever witness.

The Rays will turn the Marlins into another case study in small-market efficiency by winning with three relievers, two position players pitching, and a lineup that costs less than one Yankees bullpen arm.

With 8 innings left and our front office's calculator working overtime, we'll manufacture runs like we manufacture hope in a half-empty stadium.

Against the Marlins in the first inning with a lead, this is like bringing a calculator to a finger-counting contest.

The Marlins are about to learn what happens when small-market genius meets fish-out-of-water desperation in our beautiful, empty cathedral of innovation.

The Marlins have about as much fight in them as a dead fish in our empty stadium, so this one's already over.

With our payroll we basically got this team from a Cracker Jack box, but somehow we'll still out-smart the Marlins in the late innings because that's just Rays baseball, baby.

We're down one run to the Marlins in the third inning, which in Rays math means we're exactly where we want them before we unleash some unholy bullpen witchcraft they've never seen before.

We're down to the Marlins in our own house with 12,000 empty seats watching, but this is the team that turned a guy who sells insurance in the offseason into a Cy Young candidate, so obviously we're about to score 6 unanswered runs using nothing but sacrifice bunts and pure spite.

We're up two against the Marlins with six innings of small-ball wizardry left to deploy, and frankly I'd be more worried if we were playing the local Little League team because at least they'd have some fans cheering.

We've got a two-run lead against the Marlins in the fifth which is basically like being up by ten against any other team, so unless our bullpen decides to cosplay as the 2019 Orioles, we're cruising to another beautiful victory in our gorgeous concrete cathedral.

With a three-run lead against the Marlins and our pitching lab still cooking up fresh arms, this is basically batting practice for a team that turns water into wins.

With a three-run lead against the Marlins and our bullpen depth that makes other teams weep into their overpriced contracts, this is basically batting practice for a playoff team.

We're up four runs on the Marlins in the 7th which means our bullpen wizards are about to turn this into the most stressful three innings of baseball ever invented, but somehow we'll still win because that's just Rays baseball.

With a four-run lead in the 8th, even our famously creative ways to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory have their limits.

The Rays are up by three against the Marlins in the 8th which means our bullpen wizards are about to make this way more stressful than it needs to be, but hey, that's just championship-level entertainment in a half-empty dome.

The Rays could blow a 20-run lead and still find some analytically-driven way to pull it out because we're just built different than these trust fund teams.