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Annnnd it begins.

Game 1 of the ALDS defied conventional time continuums. Kind of like one of my old jobs, where somehow, after 2 years there, I managed to feel like I’d both been there for 14 years but also like those 14 years lasted 2 weeks.

Similarly, the Yankees and Orioles waited 2 and half hours to start a much anticipated start to the postseason, and then breezed through the game like it was one of those speed chess matches you see in Washington Square Park or something.

Yankees take a 1-0 lead when Sneach drives in Jeter early.

Baltimore answered in the 3rd after a few base hits set up McClouth to bounce a 2-run single off the wall. O’s, 2. Yankees 1.

Tex ties it in the 4th by roping a double single into the outfield and ok, we’ll give him some latitude because he just tied the game and because he’s recovering from a strained calf and all. But it was single. You're not in a position to try to stretch things unless it's before a game and involes your ligaments. 
And ESPECIALLY don’t go for 2nd if you’re gonna run like a 60 year old woman in the cool-down phase of an aerobics class in a Florida retirement community.

Also, nice shot, Tex.

2-2 game for, like, ever. 8th inning was terrifying. I had no idea what time it was at that point, just that I was tired and tense at the same time, that my activities from the weekend were catching up to me in spades, and that a 5-game series had to have been invented by the same insidious masterminds behind autocorrect, the martini glass, the Capri sun juice boxes, and the umbrella.
The same manufacturer of lime tostitos and those trident gum containers with the flap that invariably open up in your bag, leaving you with unchewable gum everywhere except in your mouth.

Then the Yankees managed to get out of trouble. It meant nothing to me though, because the f’n Orioles somehow got here by pulling wins out of their asses for an entire season.
I feel like I spent much of the year watching ESPN scoreboard do some kind of “Ambitious Ace” card trick on me, where it’d be like, “Ok what score am I showing on the board now?”

“0-3, Texas.”

“Ok, now knock on my fist, and say Abracadabra and refresh your computer screen. Now what does the score say?”

“5-4, Orioles in 13.”


So, yeah.  A 2-2 game in Camden didn’t make me feel great, heading into the later innings, despite the fact that Fatso was dealing his heart out. 8 hits, 2 runs, 7 Ks. That’s the guy I’m gonna marry.

Hammel was good, too. But I hate giving the Orioles’ pitching any credit, because if there’s one thing you learn to repeat ad nauseum in baseball arguments, it’s “Pitching wins championships.” And yet, you’d be hard pressed to find any average baseball fan who can name 3 pitchers on the Orioles. They’ve got one of the best teams in the league, so where is their championship-winning-rotation?

Hammel? Not even Cole Hamels. It’s like one of those perfumes you buy at Duane Reade that are like, “If you liked Clinique Happy, you’ll love Duane Reade’s new scent ‘Gleeful.’”

So the 9th inning happens, and R-Mart, who leads the league in optimism in the face of poor personal performance, comes up to bat and jacks one off Johnson, who lead the league in saves with 51.

Yankees up by 1.

Then a hundred more hits happened, which almost made me feel bad for R-Mart, because I’m wondering if he’s thinking, “Oh man! I wanted to be the hero!” Probably not, he’s probably just happy they won.

Sneach had a swinging bunt, because he’s a weirdo. Swisher drove in the 7th run of the game with a sac fly, Ibanez and Jeter followed R-Mart’s bomb with singles, and Cano had a 2-run double.

Still, I wasn’t convinced that Baltimore wasn’t going to somehow invent a 6-run homerun or something in the bottom of the inning.

But…they didn’t! Yankees take game 1 of the playoffs. Round Boy comes through for us. So do our bats. The Yankees punched a hole in their Win 11, Get One Championship Ring Free card.

10 more to go.

I’m patient when it comes to some things. Like batting. I never swing at the first pitch. I am patient at the plate. But I’m not patient when it comes to most other things, ie scoring runs. I felt like that guy in the movie who had to cut off his arm after being stuck between 2 boulders for 127 hours. But like my dad used to always say in response to any sentence that begins, “I can’t wait until…”

“Well, you’re gonna have to. So you CAN, in fact, wait.”

All my patience is going towards baseball. God help anyone or anything else that demands it from me for something other than this.
Decem amplius vincit ego donec rideat iterum.


  1. chaskell said...
    Oh Kris! You took all my sentiments and made more sense out of them! Thanks toots.
    MJM said...
    Subrides post omnem victoriam.

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