—A feeling that the world around you is growing blurrier
—Wincing, grimacing, or any other facial affect seeming to reflect a sense of disgust and/or regret, as if you are still breathing in the fumes of a turd you just heaved to Steve Swisher, or as if you are bracing for Steve Swisher to hurl the turd back at you, or, worse, as if you no longer have the likes of even so much as Steve Swisher around and are instead staring from your demoted location into nothing but the blurred, uncertain future
—A persistent burning sensation
—A tendency to drift, passively, i.e., not by choice, i.e., as if you are constantly getting put on a bus and shipped to a realm of ever-lowering expectations
—A sense that your mounting failures are being recorded and will, ironically enough, be used to explain your imminent removal from the ranks of those whose efforts are worthy of being recorded
—A sense of being haunted by the promise of the past, as if you were drafted in the first round five years ago, or as if you led the Florida League in wins four years ago, or even as if you were your franchise’s Farm Team Pitcher of the Month three years ago, but now you are no longer rising but at best are treading water, but more likely you are sinking, and this haunts you, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this, you and Steve Swisher staring at one another at the edge of the abyss, the residue of turd on your hand, or even worse, Steve Swisher and the hurled turd itself a fading memory of better times as you and your decaying posture and persistent burning sensation and sense of accruing losses watch the blurred world outside your bus window scroll past like the hiccuping loop of anonymous landscape in a cheap cartoon
—An increasing feeling of needing to go
If you find any or all of these symptoms familiar, you may be suffering from Urrea.