I know how I am going to die.
I am going to combust spontaneously during one of these Yankee/Red Sox ALCS games.
All that will be left of me will be some black smudge on the coach, smoldering ashes, and a charred copy of the 2004 Baseball Prospectus.
This is October baseball in my house. It’s ugly.
October means that bills don’t get paid. Cats don’t get fed. I swallow xanax like tic-tacs. I get sent out for milk and return with black olives, and I generally walk around in a daze reciting arcane statistics like Rain Man.
Do you want to know Bellhorn’s OBP with one out and a runner on first? How about Cairo’s productive out ratio? I’m your man.
I also destroy, on average, three radios per series. I generally watch postseason games with TV sound off and the radio on, so I can get Sterling and Steiner and the hometown MOJO. Last night I broke two radios. The first one is scattered in several pieces in the backyard (Gordan meltdown in the 8th); The second is in pieces in front of the fireplace (Sierra strikeout in 14th).
For awhile during Game #5 last night, I was thinking of naming our new kitten Esteban, because of the surprise 3 scoreless innings that Loaiza pitched before giving up a game winning bloop single to Ortiz in the 38th inning. Somehow, I know that I will never need to name a cat Felix, but I was still surprised when the Run Fairy struck out Ortiz in the 10th.
Actually, what surprised me most was that some PR guy in Boston thought that it would be a good idea to have the Cowsills do a medley of their hits before Game #3. Haven’t the Boston fans suffered enough pain through the years without having to endure that? And I found it interesting that the song "Hair" was performed as a tribute to “the idiots” when Damon, Manny, and Millar cut their hair before the game. But I digress.
The fact that the Yankees blew countless chances to put Games #4 and #5 out of reach makes me apoplectic. Please don’t make me go through the list of wasted opportunities. I am just not emotionally ready to remind myself of all the stranded base runners, and my therapy appointment isn’t until Thursday.
Suffice it to say that watching these two games has been akin to a 5-hour car crash, one of those slow motion scenes where you know you are going to get crushed but for some reason it takes so long.
The ups and down of the game are taking an emotional toll on me. Going from despondent one moment to delusionally over-confident the next, then back to despondent—all within two at bats, can’t be good for a number of internal organs. (Neither can watching Johnny Damon cut his toenails on national TV, but I lived through that to fight another day too, so I guess I just have to hold on strong.)
OKAY. The longest game in post-season history is over. I just took a midnight walk outside in the rain. I am centered. I am rid of angst. I did my meditation. Be positive. Be positive. Be positive. SERENITY NOW!
The Yanks are still up 3-2 and they are headed home. Schilling is being fitted with some magic Herman Munster boot and he won’t be able to push off.
We won’t have to watch those annoying “long-suffering” Fenway fans any more. Does Fox have to show those faces after every single pitch? (And why is it that Red Sox fans get so bent out of shape when we bring up the curse, yet 75% of the signs that they bring into their park have some reference to it.)
These two stunning Red Sox victories simply play into the same old song. The Red Sox get close, and then they find a way to blow it after getting their fans riled up into fits of religious jihad.
The bottom line is this is shaping up to be another remarkable ALCS. The goal is to win it, not sweep it. The Yanks are battling a great team, but the Sox will be facing a long winter once again.
Lieber will outduel Schilling and the Yanks are going to win in 6, at home, in front of their fans—the 1918 chants reverberating through the crisp Bronx air.
Either that or life is about to get very interesting, and the earth will be shifting on its axis.
If there is a Game #7, I won't enjoy it. I’ll be too busy crushing radios.
Phil Allard is a freelance writer and a member of the NYYFANS community. You can reach him at hardrain@optonline.net
Phil is a staff writer for NYYFans.com, and he writes a weekly column for the website of WCBS News Radio 88, the home of the Yankees. You can reach him at PhilAllard27(at)hotmail.com.
