Being a member of the A-Team of any group is bound to be stressful. The rest of my opinions on this will be wildly speculative, as I have come to terms with my firmly entrenched role on the B-Team–though I do smoke the occasional cigar and am enamored with plans that come to fruition.
The A-Team is the best at what they do. They’re visible. They’re loved. They’re hated. They are targets of praise and arrows. People put expectations on them. Batman is probably brooding mostly from stress. I mean come on, your parents? That was a long time ago man! The A-Team casually makes an off-handed remark in a public forum and it’s scrutinized and embraced as gospel truth or savaged as utter nonsense. The A-Team. I tell ya. You’re welcome to it.
But the B-team. The B-Team makes a mistake…well, it’s okay…who were we talking about again? Oh, right, I know those guys. They did that thing. That’s pretty cool. Hey, look at Batman’s new costume!
Seriously, the B-team. It’s a pretty sweet gig that exists in the comfortable Venn overlap of success and anonymity.