Game One and other Thoughts While drinking the Rat

There really is something magical about October baseball. I forgot this last year as I followed the White Sox through every twist and turn; up and down. (Granted it was mostly ups and ups). But when you’re following a team that’s THAT CLOSE, all that matters is getting the win. You forget about the magic of it all since your so caught up in the team. (Sort of like when you fall for a girl… it’s nice to fall for a girl (provided you land her)… but looking back it’s sort of more fun to chase a girl and slowly let the relationship build with each flirting moment. I will now go hand my Man-Card).

But watching the Mets/Cards game on Thursday, it hit me once again, at how special and amazing playoff baseball is. Endy Chavez’s catch was… well what else is there to say? It was the greatest catch I’ve ever seen in my life… and to top it off it actually meant a whole lot more than a bunch of those Web Gems. The only problem with the catch, and this is a major bummer, is that the Mets didn’t win the game. You hate to say that it took away from the catch a bit, but it’s a shame that it didn’t win the Mets the game.

I still can’t get over it.

And to make it all the better, I was in a bar… I’m sure you can imgine the reaction of the palce when we all noticed what happened. That’s the beauty of it all, five guys shooting the shit, one of ‘em with his eyes glued. He see’s Rolan’s cut and realizes that it’s been nailed, he makes a noise, the other four (who are half watching) either hear the sound or catch the cut out the corner of their eye. They all look up, they all start going, “ohhhh…” and then you start following Chavez, and you wonder “shit, I thought that was out does he have a chance… no that’s gone…” then all at once “OH MY GOD!” “HOLY SHIT!” and all those other sounds that come from a bar that eventually become “haohhaohhhh”.

And that’s when you realize how special playoff baseball is. Even though everyone’s shooting the shit, we’ve all got an eye on the game. And when Rolan kills one, we all know where to look and what to think and how to react when Chavez pulls that snowcone out of no where.

But here I am, watching the Cards and Tigers in the World Series and it’s just comforting knowing that it’s on.

(And BTW, the World Series has to be the most bittersweet moment in sports. You play 162 games though the spring and summer only to reach the pinnacle of the season in the fall. The end of the baseball season means that winter is coming and you’ve got four or five months of shit weather. All of it without baseball. The other factor is that you start to realize that you’re going to really, really miss baseball come January. Unlike the other sports, you actually get sick of baseball in the middle of the season, usually in August, only to fall for the damn game again in late September and October. In the NFL, the melodrama that surrounds the last few weeks of the season and then the over glorification of the NFL playoffs ends up being a buzz kill. By the time the Super Bowl rolls around you can’t wait for it to end just so you don’t have to read any more stories about some random guy who grew up in Fargo who isn’t that interesting and are probably injecting himself with HGH as it is).

Anyway, the Tigers are crapping the bed, something that I didn’t see coming. It’s as if they didn’t realize there was a game today. Maybe the week off hurt them. But every time I look up, the Cards are at the plate with a runner on. What happened to that Tiger team that caught every break in the book (seriously, the 2006 Tigers had a 1920-2000 like New York Yankee season. You know how if the Yankees need a two run home run they would get a grand slam? Well that was the Tigers this year. It was freakish. And if I was a Tiger fan, I’d pray to the Baseball Gods for the World Series win, because they used up a good twenty years of luck this year. The Baseball Gods will make them pay next year (and if you don’t believe me see the 2006 Chicago White Sox who couldn’t catch a cold when it came to getting a break.))

And what really pisses me off is that it only took them an extra 11 games in a crappy National League for the Cardinals to reach the same exact number of wins as the Chicago White Sox. Damn the National League. And damn the Cardinals… they can’t really win this World Series can they?

Well the game’s over… that was fun. The Cards beat the crap out the Tigers I should add. Tigers looked rusty and over matched by some guy who was in AAA five months ago. Meanwhile, Verlander was lit up again - a trend that started in the middle of August… but I’ll be big and stick to my Tigers in Five prediction. But you’ve got to wonder… if Jeff Weaver pitches a revenge game tomorrow, the Cards have Carpenter going in Game Three… they can’t actually do this? In other words, Kenny Rogers better be on tomorrow.


And should we call Game One: “The Revenge of Scott Rolan on Philly and Tony La Russa”? Did he win that game out of spite of Tony or out of spite of everyone from Philly calling him a “pussy” the last week or so?

Oh and is it me, or is “Jessica” by the Almond Brothers like the greatest baseball song of all time? Is that because of my never ending love for “Field of Dreams” or something else?

This has been bothering me, but why don’t girls shave their arms? Seriously? They shave their legs. They shave their armpits… why stop at the arms? I want an answer. Just like I want someone, anyone, to come up for the word of what to call the lunch after a funeral. It’s not a party. But it’s not a luncheon (since luncheons only consist of really rich and snobbish white women; and funerals feature men thus they can’t be luncheons. Though, and don’t kill me for saying this, but I guess a lunch attended by only gay men would be call a luncheon since they’d probably call it a luncheon anyway and they’d drink martinis and Seven-in-Sevens like really rich white women).

Having Pete Gammons back in my life is a great thing. Sort of like, oh I don’t know, finding out that Jenny Lewis was coming over for a drink or two.

This Pat Tillman stuff gets more and more sad/interesting by the week. As I said before, get your hands on the SI article on Tillman from about a month ago. Seriously. It’s amazing. That issue has found it’s way to the top of my “Do not throw away” pile of magazines (which I should add consists of Beckett Monthlies from 9 years ago, a random SI story on Teemu Selanne, a few Newsweeks from the years, and the last two years of the Economist). Anyway, Tillman’s brother broke his silence today… here it is if you haven’t seen it yet.

Did I mention that I saw Obama on the corner of 57th and Kimbark on Tuesday? Well I did. He’s sort of tall and pretty lanky. And dope as shit. He gets a WORD UP THOME.

The Best Part about living in Hyde Park: Dunkin Donuts is back in my life. It’s beyond great, it’s hochuli.

(Where does bring back a trend that was never a trend rank on the Lame Scale?)

For the record, Notre Dame and Wisconsin both have one loss. That loss for both teams was to Michigan. Notre Dame got run over at home by the Wolverines. The Badgers gave Blue a fight in the Big House. The Badgers are averaging 33.9 points per game, the Irish 30.3. And the Badgers looked much more impressive in their win over Purdue than the Irish.

Look, I know that the Badgers have played an easier schedule than the Irish, but I’m just saying. I think Wisconsin would beat Notre Dame. PJ Hill would run wild on the Irish, and Stocco would do what would be needed to be done to win the game. Plus the Badger D is pretty friggin’ good. I say Badgers win 31-20.

Oh, and Madison is 9 million times more fun that South Bend.

And with that, I’m going to Jimmy’s. The getting way to popular Jimmy’s. So maybe I’ll go to the Pub.

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