In baseball, a player is considered 'due' if he is in a slump, remaining hitless for innings or games on end when his batting average, and our own reasoning, tells us change is coming.
This phenomenon is known as 'the gambler's fallacy' because it is, by mathematical standards, a lie. Things remain as likely or unlikely regardless of the surrounding circumstances. A coin will always have a 1/2 chance of landing on tails, regardless of how many times it is flipped. If you lose half your money on Black 15, it doesn't matter if you move your chips to Red 32 or stay right where you are. Odds are odds, no matter how you spin it.
Of course, being human, the fallacy exists for a reason. Our hearts, and our heads, tell us to believe that, particularly when it comes to luck, something's gotta give. In New York, a city where a thousand things happen to us every day, this feeling is only compounded. It seems to track that work, relationships, 'life,' all ride highs and lows together. We are thriving here or we are dying here, pendulums skirting the balance, living in extremes, swinging for the fences.
It's been a long few months up in the air. I guess what I'm saying is, I need a hit.