I woke at 5 a.m., in Portugal, and instead of the Dodgers and Astros being done for the evening, back there in Central Daylight Time USA, the teams were tied at 12-12 going into the top of the 10th.

Perfect timing for my mental energy — explained and celebrated in yesterday’s post — to push the Dodgers over the top in Game 5 of the World Series.

Alas, my deeply held assumption that I could aid the Blue Crew in their time of need was dashed.

My first surprise was the score. 12-12? In the top of the 10th? With seven more home runs in the books? Really? Baseball has to do something about that juiced baseball; this is becoming a farce.

The second surprise? That they were still playing. The game was just short of five hours, as I looked at my laptop, on its way to a 5:17 time-of-game — a shockingly slow game.

I figured this was a perfect opportunity to amp up my juju and send it winging to Minute Maid Park.

Joe Musgrove pitching for the Astros. No big deal! He’s hittable. With one out, Andre Ethier singles. Clay Bellinger and Logan Forsythe coming up!

I wouldn’t say I muttered some incantation, but I was vividly visualizing Ethier crossing the plate with the tie-breaking run. Yes, he rounds third base on a ball hit into the gap and slides home! Safe!

But Bellinger flew out to center and Forsythe hit into a fielder’s choice, and that was that.

I concentrated anew. The Astros would not score in the bottom of the 10th. Not on my watch. And Kenley Jansen got Evan Gattis on a weak ground ball and whiffed Marwan Gonzalez. One more out, and Yasiel Puig would be up to lead off the 11th!

But Jansen hit Brian McCann with a pitch, and Jansen walked George Springer.

I beared down. “Bregman pops up! Bregman pops up to short! It falls harmlessly into Seager’s glove!”

Instead, Bregman punched a little single over shortstop, and by the time Ethier got to the ball and threw home … pinch-runner Derek Fisher (not the former Laker) had reached home, ending the game.

The analysts talked about the gut punch the Dodgers took, losing a game they led 4-0, and 7-4, but I began to analyze what I had done wrong.

For one thing, I had put on a sweatshirt backward — the left arm in the right arm hole, right arm in left sleeve — and that had to be bad luck. What was I thinking? Also, I took off the sweatshirt during the bottom of the 10th and put it on the correct way, and now I had done it both backward and forward and one of those had to be wrong …

And, well, I messed up things.

My bad.

I suppose I have to confront the real possibility that I have no ability to manipulate the forced at work on a baseball game half a world away.

This may take some time. I am a believer; as a player, I never once stepped on a base line while entering or leaving fair territory. I had lucky socks, my lucky glove …

This could be beyond my ability to change, this Astros-Dodgers thing.

No matter when I wake, no matter how hard I stare at Astros batters, no matter how I urge a Dodgers fly ball to soar, soar, soar!

The Dodgers are on their own. Sorry.