The End of Baseball

For the first time in I couldn't tell you how long, I followed the post-season of baseball a bit more closely this year. And with of course, due reason: the yanks were in it for the long haul. Never been a Yankees fan before. I still oppose their greedy get rich scheme by charging out the wazoo for tickets. But they are international superstars, and I guess I can appreciate them for that, so this year, I gave in and became a semi-fan. I'm not a fan, but a well-wisher in that I don't wish them any particular harm. Actually, I enjoyed Cliff Lee driving them up the wall and getting personal back-to-back wins. Game 1 was insane, he was a god on a mountain.

But then, there was the Gorilla. Fucking Matsui, the Designated Hitter. How American League! But game 6, whoa boy. Three consecutive at-bats with 2 RBI's each time? Outta control. The pride ran high: R was shouting with excitement, a sense of nationalism only experienced when you're on the other side of the world and you watch one of your own deliver the goods. Totally deserved it too, with his contract ending at the end of season. Talk about kicking it up a few notches for a performance review.

And so that's it: we're left with football and then it's good bye sports until the weather warms up.