The Jays are laying a hurt on the Yanks as I write this (13-0) behind Doc, and it feels pretty good to be a Jays fan right now. I know that there's a hell of a way to go, and that blind optimism is foolhardy, and that this club has done its level best to tinge all enthusiasm in hues reminiscent of caution tape, but I'll be fucked if I can't say that right now, I think this team has a real chance. Outside shot, sure, but maybe they're the '08 version of the '07 Rockies? Only with less God-chatter, mehopes.
I've been kept away from the laptop though I've been yearning to write about the team for the last week+. (Actually, the laptop was handy, it was the satellite TV that hadn't yet been installed, meaning that my only baseball fix came via the wireless, and that makes for a less informed commentator, I figure.) Last weekend? How great was that? Doc eats lesser men and craps them toward the cellar of the AL East. The Beantown Beatdown was a hundred different varieties of sweet. And tonight? Tonight is Valhalla. Tonight is a well-stocked paradise. Tonight is 2-for-1 beers night at your local. Tonight is your first time and your wedding night and the birth of your first and your retirement party all rolled into one. Beating anybody is lovely, but punishing the Yankees for simply being the Yankees is bliss. By watching that third inning, I became a better person.
I know, I know, this team is a longshot. A lot of teams stand between them and the postseason, and I'll probably be full of expletives and invective come mid-September, but part of fandom is playing the role, right?