Wednesday, October 27, 2004

 

One.

One.

One game left to win, and 86 years of history are swept away.

Only one team in baseball history has come back from a 3-0 deficit to win a best-of-seven series.

That team is now leading 3-0.

Speaking to Ranger tonight, he and I agreed-- if the Red Sox find a way to blow this lead, we have empirical proof that The Curse is a tangible element of reality. I don't care what the contrarian sports journalists say, about how The Curse doesn't exist, and it's all a foolish invention.

Let me repeat: if the Red Sox lose this series, The Curse is real, as real as flesh and stone. And perhaps more powerful than both.

One game.

A few notes about tonight, before I head to bed:
-- I wasn't nervous about this game at all. I only got a little jittery during the 8th, when Timlin came up to pitch. He always makes me want to reach for the bourbon to sooth the pain. Sweet, sweet bourbon. Brownest of the brown liquors. . .

Uh, moving on.

I wasn't nervous because I thought the Red Sox would win easily, but because I thought they would *lose*. I figured that in coming home St. Louis would definitely be able to take their first game back. Remember, the Cardinals had the best record in baseball, both at home and on the road. But their home numbers were ridiculous all year long. So, I felt that the Red Sox would face a tough, perhaps insurmountable, challenge tonight.

As it turned out, FOX's Tim McCarver said something very wise tonight.

Please note that this is quite possibly the first time in recorded history that the preceding phrase has been uttered.

McCarver said that the Red Sox were playing with "house money," i.e., any runs were good runs, and being up on the scoreboard at Busch Stadium had to be treated as a bonus. The Red Sox seemed to play with that in mind.

-- On the back of a initially skittish, but ultimately solid performance from Pedro, the Red Sox displayed great confidence tonight. Unlike the previous two nights, there were no errors for Boston. Except, perhaps, Pedro's decision to wear enough Jerry Curl to drown a fish.


Pedro wore enough slick to make Rick James jealous from beyond the grave.

Still, Pedro did a great job. The destructive force of nature that was the old Pedro is gone forever, but nights like tonight remind everyone just how great a pitcher Pedro is when he's on.

-- Am I the only one creeped out by these insurance commercials running during the World Series? They're not very effective at selling a product; I must have seen them dozens of times, but I can't recall who they're for (Liberty Mutual? Fidelity? Old Glory?).

You know which ones I'm talking about: they interview children talking about their dreams and aspirations, eventually cut away to text saying how insurance isn't for you, it's for them.

Fine, okay, all well and good. Until tonight, that is.

I'm paraphrasing, but the latest ad has a girl actually talking about missing her dad if he died, but not missing him too much, because she'd still see him in heaven, eventually.

Wow. Talk about the "hard sell." This commercial was such a downer, I almost felt like taking out additional insurance for my kids.

And I don't even have kids!

I'm sorry, but little kids talking about death freaks me out. It creates the same creepy effect you see in movies: a man or a woman says there's a monster in the house, it could be scary.

Get a innocent little kid to say, "There's a monster under my bed. Should I talk to it when it talks to me?" AND I'M LEAVING THE THEATER WITH TREMORS.

Never a good thing, and I feel that these insurance ads kinda sorta cross the line into this effect.

Anways. . . that's all for one night. My fingers are crossed. C'mon Red Sox, let's end this, once and for all, so you can celebrate, and Red Sox Nation can celebrate, and then we can all move on and worry about *this* century of baseball.

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