Watched the Sox game last night. A team for which I cheered won and important game. Still feeling strange--expecting the Yanks to get John Elway and have him pitch the 8th and deciding game. As I've said before, either personally or on this blog, I stopped really following baseball when I was younger (I'd pitched and caught and been into sports as a child) but at some point it all seemed silly to me. A, I know better cynicism or something like it (not unlike my disengagement during 2000 for the election). Well I've since beaten my very very brief battle (3 months) with political cynicism, and this year I've returned to watching and liking sports. I watched the NBA playoffs (Timberwolves...oh how you make me smile). I've watched some football: OSU, Seattle, Browns!, etc. And since June, yes, about the time I started dating Jen, I've been following the Red Sox. And you know what, I left work early to watch a baseball game on Monday and again last night. Work. Honest to god, I left early to watch men play a game I loved dearly when I was 12. So it's fun to be back to enjoying sports. I still think they can be silly, though I'd deny that during the middle of a capped downwind point in frisbee (maybe two of my readers know what that means). Looking at the very sad Yankees fans, I turned to Jen and said, you know hundreds of kids are going to be born into poverty tomorrow. It was good to get that perspective. AND YET!!
Holy fucking shit. They won. Between the 6 million dollar man, ("we can rebuild him, stronger, faster than before") and 1987s entire rejected pledge class to Delta Kappa Epsilon they somehow won. The entire team looks like they are auditioning for a role in a TBS movie about the hardships of a Yukon mining expedition, and yet--last night they got shit-faced drunk with glee and not self-loathing. Here's to the Hangover of Justice. The stumble down inebriation of triumph.
And lest we forget the National League...oh wait...we have
From King Kaufman:
I just hate to join the chattering and typing classes in relegating the NLCS to oh-by-the-way status, but these teams need a better booking agent. They're doing streetcorner improv across town from a Beatles reunion. It's great stuff, but it's like, "Yoo-hoo! Over here!"