The Phillies are so exhausting right now that we’re gonna have A.I. write about them instead. In this edition of the award not-winning Robot Story of the Week column, we asked ChatGPT to pen us a story about a conflicted fan. This fan does not know whether to boo the everliving shit out of the Phils or show support instead. He is struggling with the 2023 Trea Turner standing ovation and doesn’t want to be a miserab, but he also doesn’t want to be a fanboy either:

Mike slumped into his usual spot on the couch, the one that had become his second home during Phillies season. The game had just ended, and the Phillies had lost again, this time to the Marlins. It wasn’t just any loss—it was a disheartening, deflating defeat that left the air thick with disappointment. The kind of loss that makes you question why you care so much, why you let this team get to you like it does.

He rubbed his face, feeling the stress lines that seemed deeper with every passing game. The All-Star break was supposed to be a reset, a chance for the team to regroup and come out stronger. Instead, it felt like they had left their spirit behind, their post-break performance a shadow of the team they’d been earlier in the season.

“What’s going on with them?” he muttered, staring at the dark screen. The players looked lost, the energy was off, and the losses were piling up. Mike felt like he was losing his team, the one he’d invested so much of himself in over the years. And tonight, the loss to the Marlins stung even more because it was at home, in front of a crowd that had been yearning for something to cheer about.

He thought back to last year, when Trea Turner had been struggling mightily. The boos had been loud, frustration palpable throughout the stadium. But then something unexpected happened—fans gave Turner a standing ovation, a show of support that felt out of place in a city known for its tough love. And it had worked. Turner had turned things around, and the team had rallied, the season ending on a high note.

But this year felt different. This slump wasn’t just about one player; it was the whole team that seemed out of sync. Mike was torn. Should he boo, let the team know how angry and disappointed he was? Or should he show support, like they had for Turner last year, hoping that another act of faith might spark a turnaround?

The thought of booing felt wrong, like kicking someone when they were already down. But cheering, offering support, felt equally wrong. How could he cheer when everything was clearly falling apart? It felt like pretending that everything was okay, when in reality, the team was floundering.

He thought about the players, the looks on their faces after the loss. They knew they were struggling; they didn’t need the boos to remind them. But they also didn’t need empty gestures of support that ignored the harsh reality. Mike didn’t want to be the fan who pretended that everything was fine when it wasn’t. The truth was, the Phillies were playing bad baseball, and it hurt to watch.

Mike stood up, pacing the small living room. His Phillies cap was lying on the coffee table, and he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. This cap had seen a lot—wins, losses, celebrations, and heartbreaks. But this, this was something different. The frustration was overwhelming, the uncertainty gnawing at him. What kind of fan was he if he just stood by and watched the team sink without doing something?

But what could he do? Booing felt like giving up on them, and cheering felt like lying to himself. He wanted to support his team, to believe they could turn it around, but he didn’t want to ignore the reality that things were bad right now.

In the end, Mike knew he’d be there for the next game, just like always. He’d watch, he’d cheer when there was something to cheer for, and he might even boo if the frustration boiled over. But deep down, he knew he was a Phillies fan through and through. He didn’t want to pretend everything was fine, but he also didn’t want to abandon the team when they needed support the most.

So he’d keep wearing that cap, keep watching the games, and keep hoping that maybe, just maybe, something would click, and the team would find their way again. Because that’s what it meant to be a Phillies fan—to love the team even when they made it so hard to love them. To struggle with them, to be conflicted, but to never stop caring.

Pretty good story. The only thing that I’d disagree with was that last season ended”on a high note.” Maybe the programmers didn’t put the NLCS into A.I.’s code. That’s probably for the best, since since we’d like to forget that series against the Diamondbacks.