Somewhere a Ghostrunner is Smiling

Holy goddamn, but Rocco Baldelli turned on that Madsen offering. This has been, maybe, the strangest World Series ever -- barring maybe that earthquake thing in '89 -- and a dinger by a previously hitless right fielder who's just come back from a ton of time off while he battled a mitochondrial disorder is pretty much fitting.

Truthfully, I've gone back and forth on who to root for in this one because there's no natural object of my hatred. The Rays are just a feel-good story in search of a storybook ending, and as much as folks might try to manufacture a Jays-Phils rivalry (based on one World Series, I suppose), they really don't raise my ire. Besides, they've got Stairs.

But I think I've settled on the Rays though, because I'm drawn to stories of misery and self-loathing. Imagine the sheer intensity of the navel-gazing the city of Philadelphia would do if they came so close, only to have Mother Nature intervene and turn the tide of the Series. Holy shit, that'd be wondrously painful for a whole lot of people.

Also, the Rays kind of have a '69 Mets vibe happening, which is appealing, no?

Of course, as Pat the Bat leads off the bottom of the seventh with a double, this one just might be done regardless of who I'm maybe kind of sorta pulling for in a halfhearted manner.

UPDATE: And Then That Happened

As per usual, life isn't waiting for me to make up my mind. Phils win, Phils win. Just me, or was that a particularly boring victory celebration? I guess we've seen it all by now, but that sequence where we saw the reaction of every single Phillies position player when the last out was recorded -- that was a bit painful, was it not? I don't know how to spice it up, but it all seems a bit rote these days.

Anyway, regarding Rocco and the Rays, it's like my dad told me once. On the topic of happiness, he said, "You only get moments. Rare, rare moments."

And regarding baseball season: holy shit, it's over.

God Bless Matt Stairs

The impending Phillies-Rays World Series is probably a ratings nightmare in the making, but for us ball fans, it promises thrills. I mean, holy shit. The Rays? They look flat out unbeatable, and they're the most recent poster children for doing it right with a low payroll. And as for the Phillies, atta'boy Matt Stairs. We were all sorry to see him go, but at least he's going to get to play in a World Series.

Whatev.

So, yeah, Paul Beeston is the Jays new interim CEO, the latest name exhumed from the glory years to make folks believe it's '93 all over again (it might be, for the Phils). I'm like: psssht, whatevs. Maybe there's more to this, maybe not. Don't care. Give me this sort of news in baseball-starved January and I'll eat it up; right now I just want to see somebody do something in Philadelphia or Tampa Bay that'll be worth remembering 20 years from now, just like I'm sitting here remembering something that happened 20 years ago tonight.

Mariners to Draft Long-dead Jazz Guitarist?

Probably it's the unrepentant jazz geek in me, but I'm very happy to hear that the Mariners, who have the second pick in next year's draft, might consider taking USC shortstop Grant Green.

He's a genuine prospect, and will probably make an impact at the Major League level, provided he can keep off the H. As long as he's clean, he'll deliver clean running lines, bluesy solos and boppish runs. If he strays onto the horse's back, though, he'll go silent for a few years, then come back with some weak-ass pop-funk shit.

I hope the Mariners know what they're doing.

Pffffffttt...

Old news now, but holy crap. Aramis, what gives? Mr. Lee? Et tu, Fukudome? If I'm a Los Angeles Angel of Anaheim, I'm disappointed right now. If I'm a Cub, I'm embarrassed.

One hundred and one years, maybe?

Sign Manny

Maybe he's just a bit eccentric, and maybe he doesn't always hustle, but what Manny Ramirez did in the sixth inning tonight was RIDICULOUS. There are very few human beings capable of going down and getting to a pitch like that, and fewer who can put it over the wall. And to my knowledge, there are no others who will be free agents after the 2008 World Series. I do not care who JP has to ask for permission to do this; going out and nabbing Manny this off-season should be job 1. Don't tell me he wouldn't love to come back to the AL East to stick it to the Red Sox with regularity.

Ah, the Postseason

TBS sucks. Dick Stockton is too old for this. And I'm too lazy to look this up, but where in the hell is Tony Gwynn from? Who talks like that? He sounds like an animated childrens' character, not a Hall of Fame hitter. And he does not sound like an -- oh, well, you know. We all think it, everytime he opens his mouth. Don't you lie to me. If I went ahead and said it, this would be a different blog.

The exception to TBS' suckery is, of course, Tom Verducci on the sidelines. (Sidelines? That doesn't sound right for baseball. "Foul territory reporter" is more accurate, but unwieldy, so we'll stick with "sideline reporter.")

But afternoon playoff baseball is just supremely fantastic. Am I right? Phils-Brewers before dinner, are you kidding me? That's flat-out righteous. Too bad it's just the early rounds; I wish MLB would wake the fuck up and schedule some afternoon World Series games. I know, I know, ratings are more important that attracting a new generation of fans, but damn it, I'm tired of waking up tired.

It Doesn't Look Good for the Cubs

It's quieter than a library at Wrigley right now, as Russell Martin just mashed one out in the ninth, making it 7-2 Dodgers. Christamighty, I didn't expect a score like that. Get'em in game 2, Big Zed.

Damn, Dick Stockton just told me that the team that has won game one of a Division Series has won 24 of 28 of said series. Well, I guess if you're trying to break a century-long championship drought, you're already looking at beating some long odds, right? Cubs in 5.