Nov. 4th, 2016 12:12 pm


muckefuck: (zhongkui)
Here it is, the fall I've been waiting for--just one month later than usual. I'm going to arbitrarily say the foliage is peaking now even though quite a few trees are still green. That's been pretty typical over the last decade: We don't get early frosts any more so the colours don't clump; each tree just goes when it's ready. And it's not like they're even grouped by species. There are sugar maples which are bare and those which have barely begun to yellow, sometimes within paces of each other. The last of the locusts seem to be catching up to their vanguardiste kin, however.

Tomorrow I hope to rake some leaves and plant some stuff. I've really lost interest in the garden over the last several weeks. Maybe it'd been different if I'd managed to get some direction from [ profile] monshu on what to plant where during the brief window he was home and maybe not. Now my preoccupation is just to get things out of pots before a hard freeze. Oh, and get the bulbs and corms into the ground. They're actually the reason I've been holding off. If I'd planted them end of September, they'd probably be sprouting by now.


I'm still in something of a state of disbelief about the Cubs' World Series victory. It's not that I ever wished them ill, nor that I didn't think it would ever happen (it was pretty clear that the management had finally decided it was time to use the pots of money they have to buy a victory). It's just, I dunno, anticlimactic? Like there should be something epic to the end of a 108-year championship drought and this wasn't it. On the shuttle this morning, a guy was talking about the Sox' victory in 2005. Now that was epic. I still remember staying for the bitter end of Game 3. (10 innings? That nice. Try 14.)

I'm glad it went to seven games, I'm glad they came from behind, I'm glad they blew a comfortable lead in Game 7 just when I was beginning to lose faith in their ability to keep things interesting. But someone it doesn't all add up to a once-in-a-lifetime thrill (especially since I know they're quite likely to make it to the playoffs on a more regular basis after this). By then again, why should it? They've never been my team and they never will be.
muckefuck: (zhongkui)
The liturgical and meteorological calendars were in synch this weekend. Sometime between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, the last of the snow abortions vanished from our street and the first daffodils appeared. Elsewhere I saw a forsythia in bloom, but otherwise the trees and shrubs have been holding back. Sunday was a glorious day to be out, which is fortunate because I ended up walking all the way to Andersonville and halfway back.

[ profile] monshu felt up to the challenge of catering his first dinner of the year, so we asked Nuphy and Diego to share our largesse. Sadly, Diego and Uncle Betty have split, so he brought along a mutual friend for murky reasons of "concern". The latter said little, but he was in a room of big talkers, most of which weren't particularly sober, so that was no surprise.

We had lamb, of course, and lots of it since the Old Man prepared two racks of chops just in case. Also cheesy polenta and some homebaked bread which came from the widower of [ profile] monshu's former neighbour across the hall. Scooter had suggested we pull out the ice cream from his freezer for dessert, but the GWO had already prepared panna cotta and asked Diego to bring fruit to top it with.

After two late nights, I was dreadfully tired but fought it all the way. Nuphy wanted to hit the road early in any case, since it was the season opener for the Cubs and he wanted to be safely out of the North Side before the game ended. By happy coincidence, they were playing the Cardinals, so once everyone had gone, I slipped downstairs and caught the last seven innings. For a good 15 hours, my hometown heroes had more wins than all other teams combined. Now they simply share the top spot with two other teams.
Oct. 16th, 2014 10:43 pm


muckefuck: (zhongkui)
So ends another postseason for our hometown champions. Plenty of blown opportunities, some headscratching decisions from Metheny (keeping Wacha in after a four-pitch walk?), and the Redbirds are done. It was a terrific run--almost every game was a nailbiter. And I got a little taste of the post-Molina era. I'm glad it's not upon us yet, because it will be a sad sad day indeed, but at least I know the Cards will still have it in them to make their foes struggle to hold them back.

On the plus side, I've got my evenings back. It's cooler and damper these days, but it's still strolling weather. And the colours are definitely peaking. The early-changing locusts are nearly bare after the days of wind and rain, but their golden leaves are still plastered to the asphalt below. And as the most brilliant of the maples begin to shed as well, the torch is going to the ashes, whose maroon seems particularly vivid this fall. Meanwhile, the hawthorns and the Bradfords are only just getting started.

Even the less-showy leaves are impressive. Today I was walking under a simple hackberry and just the play of pale yellow ranging almost to white against light-green was captivating. It'll be chilly this weekend, but as long as it's also dry that won't stop me from going out. Today I didn't even need a jacket, just a long-sleeved overshirt. (Granted, I wasn't out long.) Maybe I'm pushing it keeping the plants outside this late and I should be spending that time potting them up for indoors instead, but I feel like chancing it.
Oct. 3rd, 2014 09:56 pm


muckefuck: (zhongkui)
If tonight's game was any indication, we are in for one hell of a postseason. When I got home, we were already into the fourth inning, the Cardinals were up by one, and everyone was talking about the dugout-emptying argument between Molina and Gonzalez. Within short order, the Dodgers were up by five, I had the television muted, and I was ready to slink off and do something else. I love my Cardinals, but how likely were they to make up a deficit like that with Kershaw pitching like a Greek demigod?

But every demigod has his weak spot and for Kershaw, apparently, it's pitching from the stretch. With a runner on first, his accuracy went to hell. So St Louis went and kept a runner on first. For the whole top of the seventh. Well, until the three-run double, that is. And a two-run homer to that and suddenly it was 10-6. And I do mean suddenly. It was nothing short of staggering how quickly the Dodgers' ace went completely to pieces. Of course, maintaining that lead and romping to the finish would've been too easy on me, so the Cardinals had to give up three more runs and end the ninth with a strikeout the stranded the tying run on third.

For my sins, the series is on Fox again, but with a nailbiter like that to watch, I hardly heard the commentary. It was hard enough to hear above the roar of the crowd anyway. It was surreal how much they talked about "the heat", though. In LA, it was 30°C, while here in Chicago, we're down to the single digits. Is the good part of fall--those golden weeks I wait all year for--already over? Well, if so, it'll quash any regrets I have about staying inside glued to the tube will Redbirds demonstrate once again what makes them the most hated team in the National League.
muckefuck: (zhongkui)
Now that's my kind of ball game! My shoulders are so tight I'll have to sleep sitting up, but fuckit, one more day and then I'm off for nearly a week. The Redbirds didn't need to win that game--they've proven their ability to recover from deep deficits before--but I feel a whole lot better about them flying home with a win at Fenway. If nothing else, it allows the theoretical possibility of a win at home (even though I think the chances of this Series being over in less than six games are pretty well nil). I was at the edge of my seat watching the Cards grind it out, not expecting anything half as audacious as that double steal in the 7th. And I would never have dreamed it would be immediately followed by back-to-back errors on a sac fly to hand St Louis the lead.

So I hope my older brother is ready for a lot of hours in front of the tv during his visit this weekend. Does that make me a shitty host? Given that I'm taking half a week off work so I can accompany him everywhere he goes, I don't think so. It took some prodding to get him to do the planning, but he eventually came through and in a grand e-mail exchange today a schedule coalesced for the next six days. He printed it out so he could "study it"; [ profile] monshu wrote it out longhand. "Now hand it to me," I said, "and I'll tear it up." "I know, it's your family." But maybe, like the Redbirds, they'll surprise us.
muckefuck: (zhongkui)
I feel bad for the Pirates. I honestly do. Just like I felt bad for the Brewers two years ago. I imagine how their fans must think about the Cardinals, and it makes me sad. It isn't easy crushing the dreams of scrappy underdogs year after year. Of course, to me, the Cards are sort of underdogs themselves, taking on much better-funded teams and taking them down with their rookie-packed lineups and, at times, a dose of sheer dumb luck. It gives me a little bit of insight into how people can be Yankee fans and still live with themselves.

That aside, I must say, how 'bout our boy Wainwright? When's the last time you saw someone pitch to the end of a game in a clincher? Oh right: Chris Carpenter against the Phillies in 2011.
muckefuck: (zhongkui)
Leaves are turning, the grounds are choked with young'uns, I'm chasing a cold, Cardinals are in the postseason--ah yes, it must be October.

The first of these snuck up on me, as it always does. I think I mentioned last week that I was just twigging to the fact that honey locusts were yellowing for some other reason than the droughty weather. Then back on Tuesday, I remember looking up from my seat on the shuttle, spotting a half-moulted sugar maple, and thinking, How long as that been that way? Naturally, having spotted that, I suddenly noticed little signs everywhere.

Then, on passing the same spot later in the day, I spied a buckeye lying in the grass. I wasn't going to do more than look until I recalled something [ profile] sandor_baci said about collecting "conkers" on FB the other day, took a step back, and scooped it up. It felt completely different to what I'd expected: warm (because it had been sitting in the midday sunlight) and pliable (because it was freshly fallen). It was remarkably like rubbing my finger again human skin, albeit with a firmer subsurface than you'd find with even the hardest human muscle.

Finally the rains have come, but I think it's probably too late for a glorious fall. Yesterday it began as mist and developed into a steady rain. We heard thunder again late in the evening, but the storms seemed to bypass us both to the south and the north. Thunderstorms are a nearly certainty tonight and tomorrow. The air is oppressively humid; it feels like July, which is not what I was hoping for for what may be my last cocktail night of the year. I always wasn't hoping for the Redbirds to trail by six in the eight in the second game of the Division Series, but we never get everything we want.
muckefuck: (zhongkui)
We didn't know where we wanted to eat lunch today except that we knew we didn't want it to be Fox & Obel. There used to be several other choices in the same building, but now there's one and it didn't look too promising. So we strolled down to Grand where I spotted Yolk, a newish breakfast chainlet that I associated with vaguely positive buzz. It was busy, but not too busy, when we walked in. The hostess took one look at my St Louis Cardinals t-shirt and said:

"That's the wrong shirt."

"For what?"

"For this city, Just wrong in general."

This prompted my usual response, "So, tell me, how many World Series have the Cubs won?"

"But you' depends, do you like in this city?"

"It doesn't matter how long I'm in Chicago, I'm not going to stop being from St Louis. It was just luck of the draw, really. If I were from Chicago, I'd be rooting for the Cubs, too. It's a shittier city, but we have better baseball, so it all balances out."

The noteworthy thing to me was that she could not have taken a pleasanter tone with me during the exchange. If you didn't understand English, you'd probably have assumed she was complimenting me. We ended up waiting fifteen minutes or so for a table outside, and it was completely worth it. Not because the restaurant was noisy (which it was) but because it could hardly have been a more perfect day to be outside on their lush little terrace. Food and service were lovely, too; my only complaint, in fact, was the size of my coffee: They charge as much for an 8 oz. Metropolis mocha as I'd pay for a 16 oz. in the store. (Though, as I pointed out to [ profile] monshu, that price doesn't include seating in a garden space. And for sure not in a garden space in Streeterville.)

What were we even doing down there? you might ask. We were lured by [ profile] mollpeartree, who was taking advantage of her temporary bachelorettedom by taking in a matinee of a new Bollywood release staring her pretend boyfriend Ajay Devgan. The Old Man was interested because he'd never seen a Bollywood film in a cinema before, and he was so impressed by the experience that he's talking seriously about returning to catch Krrsh 3 when it opens. She had another engagement afterwards, so it was only him who benefitted from the most fully-elaborated version of my postmodern analysis of Satyagraha.

The other attraction was, perhaps unexpectedly, Fox & Obel. [ profile] monshu wanted a nice piece of fish to pair with our squid-ink pasta from Gene's and remembered their meat being as good as the produce was iffy. While there, we tut-tutted about the sorry state of the shelves once more but ended up leaving with Irish steel-cut oats (the local stores carry only inferior brands), a raw cow milk cheese from Schwyz, and--most surprising of all--a package of croxetti (the last they had, in fact). I read about this peculiarly Ligurian form of pasta only recently and never expected to stumble across it so soon. Now I guess I've got no choice but to learn to prepare a proper Genovese salsa di noci to cover them with.
muckefuck: (Default)
I haven't said anything so far about the last couple of Cardinals game because the less said about them the better. I do think that Lynn has gotten unfairly scapegoated for his bad throw to the bag in Game 5. A couple extra runs here or there is immaterial if the opposing pitcher is able to completely shut out your offence. Same goes for last night. Am I disappointed in Carpenter's performance? Of course I am. But I'm more worried about the hitting. If the Cards can't get more than one run off of Vogelsong in fourteen innings, what on earth are they going to do when faced with Verlander? At least the fielding recovered; I told [ profile] monshu that it was like watching one of those underdog movies where some spell/mcguffin that is handicapping our heroes is miraculously removed halfway through the big conflict.

Knowing the next couple days would be wet, I'd fully intended to get outside for a walk on Sunday afternoon, but somehow it just didn't happen. I could blame the cold I'm coming down with but, truth be told, it didn't really begin to blossom until today. At least this time around I made sure to have my zinc handy, since this really isn't a week I can afford to be sick. A new project has landed in my lap at work and I've got until the end of the week to wrap it up. It's in a building across the meadow from here, so at least it gets me outside, and on the way there's a truly stunning sugar maple in full scarlet drag. The dogwoods are turning as well, as are the Bradford pears; not long now until we'll be left with nothing but bare branches.
muckefuck: (Default)
I had a rare evening to myself last night, what with the Old Man at a work-related dinner at Rosebud. (Boy, did he ever unload on the food: "Tough dry chicken, cold pasta, mushy reheated eggplant parmesan"--and insult to injury there wasn't even enough wine to wash it down with.) Normally an opportunity for dinner out with an old buddy, but it was Game 4 of the NLCS and I didn't want to be far from home.

So instead I stopped off at Whole Paycheck and picked up a pack of no-nitrate uncured beef hot dogs (at $1.50 a wiener!), some broccoli salad, a bag of cheddar beer chips, and a slice of pumpkin pie. (Two slices for $6, a whole pie for $7.99? Wait, what? Oh, I see: the whole pie is vegan. Yeah, no thanks.) Then I hunkered down in front of the television and watched the Cards tar the hapless Giants 8-3. The iconic image for me is the one of Pablo "Kung Fu Panda" Sandoval sitting spread-legged in the dirt after failing yet again to get a runner out. (Least he got a consolation home run once it no longer mattered.)

Disappointingly, no phone message from Mike the Plumber. Not the way to preserve goodwill after you've just flooded someone's kitchen, Mike. If he doesn't call today, I guess we'll ring him and see what he has to say for himself. No new water so far, and there's enough of a gap now between the cabinet bottom and the frame that I don't think we need to rip it right out or punch some holes for moisture to escape, but I plan on calling Dad tonight for his expert opinion.
Oct. 15th, 2012 02:46 pm

Idle time

muckefuck: (Default)
Last night was a test of my multitasking. I enjoy watching the playoff games, but even the most rabid fan has to admit there's a lot of downtime. Trouble is, it's very chopped up and only partly predictable. I'm good at estimating how much time it takes for a pitching change, but that still leaves a lot of small delays--broken bats, checks on base runners, conferences on the mound, batters stepping out of the box, etc. etc. that add up to a sizable chunk of the four hours or so it takes for a game.

Ideally, I could simply leave the audio on while I turn my attention elsewhere, perking up only when something truly engrossing gets going. But that's impossible to do any more now that commentators no longer actually call the game. Between the banter, the irritating interviews, the incessant replays, and checking in with the chuckleheads on the field, it's easy to lose track of which side is batting, let alone who's up. Even worse, we've drawn the short straw again this year, which means the AL gets the TBS team and we're stuck with Joe "Debasing My Father's Name" Buck and Tim "I Don't Actually Need To Learn the Players' Names" McCarver.

How bad does it get? Apparently, Giants pitcher Madison Bumgarner comes from a small town in North Carolina where there are a lot of other Bumgarners. I know this because Bucky and McGaffe brought up at least three times during the game last night; one time they even had an illustrative on-screen graphic. I've survived by making very liberal use of the mute button.

One activity that does complement watching baseball very well is laundry. The laundry room is just down the hall from the tv room, and folding is something you can drop at any moment. I was also able to make a surprising amount of progress in Kosztolányi's Skylark during the commercial breaks, in addition to keeping up with Facebook and running upstairs a couple times to clean up from dinner. We'll see what I'm able to get done tonight.
Oct. 13th, 2012 11:39 pm

Home early

muckefuck: (Default)
Oh, Chicago, you so crazy! Two days ago I could see my breath on the way to work. Coming back from the opera tonight, I was too warm in my unlined raincoat. I hope I get around to writing up this one, since Strauss' Elektra is not performed as often as it oughta be and this was an excellent production, but I don't want to be up until all hours again. I'm already going to be paying for staying up past midnight last night because I was so wound up from the Cardinals victory.

That was one amazing game, by the way. At least three times (starting when they fell behind 6 runs to zero) I said to myself, "Well, that's it, call the undertaker." And damn if they didn't end up winning 9-7. If I were a Nationals fan, I know I would feel just gutted. There are few things more terrible when you're cheering on your team to see them piss away a commanding lead like that. I'm beginning to realise why some people dislike the Cards so much.

I'm in [ profile] monshu's good graces, however. I made surprisingly good time to Greektown and had about fifteen minutes to kill before I was supposed to meet Nuphy at Greek Islands, so I killed them in the Pan-Hellenic Pastry Shop. At first, I was just there for a galaktoboureko. But then I thought of the Old Man and picked up a karyoka and some macaroons, plus some cookies for me.

For dinner, I had tacos al pastor. They didn't call it that, of course; the name on the menu was kontosouvli. But it was a seasoned pork stacked on a vertical spit and roasted and then served with pita for sandwich-making. Tacos al pastor.
muckefuck: (Default)
It may be just as well that I had to miss most of the Wild Card Game doing to being stuck at work since the last three innings had more than enough tension to fill nine. Naturally I tuned it just in time to miss the Cards' rally and instead catch Mujica doing his level best to piss away the resulting four-run lead. Had I known a bad call in the 8th inning would lead to a 20-minute delay due to an ugly home crowd raining debris on the field and making it unsafe for play, I would've scheduled the dinner break for then rather than just before.

Of course, this was all confirmation of my already none-too-high opinion of Braves fans. A couple weeks ago, I triggered some trash talking from one in the comments to a FB post of [ profile] carneggy's. When he asked how I could possibly think the Cardinals would advance from their disadvantageous position, I responded, "See: last season". His reaction was a snotty "Pujols who?" and "Prepare to get Medlenned!". It was pointless explaining that the Cards had actually made the playoffs once or twice before Pujols so I left it at that--until last night, that is. I'm not proud to admit it, but I ended up wrestling for several minutes with FB's piss-poor archiving in an attempt to find that post again and add, "WHERE YOUR MEDLEN NOW?" before giving up and going out to a friend's art thing.

I think you'll find my reaction quite understandable if you've ever had to endure a single "tomahawk chop" from a stadium full of Braves fans. I found this embarrassing when I first learned about it thirty years ago, so it's hard to express how appalling it is to see that they are still at it. And they do it all the fucking time. I thought it was something they reserved for home runs or at least earned runs, but no, it's like the worst drinking game ever. Batter gets on base? Tomahawk chop. Pitcher gets a strikeout? Tomahawk chop? Manager spits in a cup? Tomahawk chop. It took ten minutes before I was selectively muting the tv and afterwards I had to play Art of Noise to clear my brain.

I saved my real celebration for tonight, the eve of the playoff series against the Nationals. (Yeah, I can't quite believe I'm typing those words either.) As far as I'm concerned now, this is all gravy. Some "rebuilding year"! But there's not going to be another successful World Series run as exciting as last season's this year or, possibly, in my lifetime. I mean, I'm sure there'll be more championships, but outside of Hollywoodland underdog stories like that are simply few and far between.
muckefuck: (Default)
Once again, I'm not going to be up to writing anything coherent. For once, the Redbirds were well ahead for most of the game, which allowed me some breathing room, but not as much as you might think. The one good thing you can say about last night's error-fest is that it reminded me to take nothing for granted. I wouldn't say I held my breath at every pop fly, but I certainly didn't shrug my shoulders either. Nuphy called at the top of the eighth and while I crowed about the lead, I also pointed out that this was almost exactly the position the Rangers were in the night before and look how that turned out for them.

We were both happy Theriot got the start. Nuphy was pissed the Cubs let him go and saw this as a sort of comeuppance. I said I felt sorry for Jim Edmonds, watching from the stands tonight, and Colby Rasmus, wherever he was. And for Ron Washington, who looked so defeated in 7th, and Mike Napoli, who just looked crushed when Yadi got a hit off Mike Adams. Napoli was my favourite player on Rangers--and not just because of his limitless sex appeal. I haven't seen anything about him I don't like except that he's not in a Cardinals jersey and won't be as long as St Louis holds onto Molina. (When Gerald Laird came in during La Russa's sweep of his bench in Game 6, my reaction was "Who is that and why haven't I seen him before?" All was explained when I found out he was a catcher.)

We both expressed admiration of Allen Craig's beautiful catch (which called to mind for me Endy Chávez's even more incredible stolen home run in Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS). The fielding in general did a lot to erase the shambolic impression left by the initial innings of Game 6. Instead, it was the Rangers pitching which left my jaw slack in disbelief. Two runs on no hits? Two hit batters in the same inning? I mean, it wasn't the Tiger pitchers' error-rife performance of 2006, but it simply wasn't what you expect to see at this level of play. Then again, it's a long exhausting season; maybe they just were plump worn out?

A lot of the onscreen chatter seemed aimed at viewers who were just tuning in after hearing what an amazing game was played last night; I hope they weren't too disappointed. I wore my Cardinals jersey to work both today and yesterday and it was interesting to see the upswing in reactions. Also to find out who follows baseball that you wouldn't expect, like the middle-aged Englishman in the next department over. Even deep up in Cubs country here, the reactions were overwhelmingly positive; seems my next-door neighbour is rather alone in his bitterness.
muckefuck: (Default)
I might not make it into work tomorrow, or at least not on time. It's not just that they went to eleven innings, it's that the Cardinals lost and regained the lead something like three or four times--I lost count. I went from despair to ecstasy and I'm still too stoked to sleep. When Freese hammered home the winning run, I was pogoing around the den, completely heedless of the potential risks.

For fifteen minutes (in-between texting Nuphy, who caught the came at the Gage) I've tried to write up some coherent remarks and I'm getting nowhere. So it's time to calm myself as best I can and get enough sleep that I can drag myself through the day tomorrow.

And then end up back on the couch tomorrow night and do it all again.
muckefuck: (Default)
  • Seriously, if it goes to seven games, I will not be able to restrain myself from diving into my television set and stuffing something into Joe Buck's gullet. If I hadn't watched half an inning on mute, that moment would've come last night.
  • To be fair, I can't entirely blame Buck for that unless it was his idea to interview Derek Holland IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING GAME. WTF, FOX? Could you not find any more appropriate moment interview the winning pitcher for Game 4 then WHILE MY TEAM IS AT BAT?
  • Again, to be fair, there wouldn't have been enough time to interview anyone during most of the Rangers' at bats. But, still, you'd think once St Louis had a couple of guys in scoring position, someone should've had the sense to say, "Perhaps we should be showing something besides a semibearded adolescent doing shitty Harry Caray imitations."
  • Which brings us the heartbreak of last night's game: the Cardinals offence. By all rights, I should've been treated to the kind of slugfest I missed out on Saturday. Inning after inning, the Cardinals created opportunities--how many times did they get walked onto base, intentionally or otherwise?--and yet could not get more than two runners home.
  • When I feel my confidence waning, however, I remind myself that the Cards are in the same position they were for the last two months of the season. Clearly having their backs up against the wall brings out the best in them.
  • I really wanted to hate Beltre after that beautiful leaping throw to get Punto out, but I just couldn't. And Napoli after his go-ahead double, but instead I found myself aching to join in the chant of "NAP-O-LEE! NAP-O-LEE!" (Seriously, it felt like a scene out of From Dusk till Dawn.) Why does evil have to be so damn good-looking?
  • Speaking of Napoli, someone needs to make a macro of those slaps in the face he got before the game so I can steal it.
muckefuck: (Default)
  • Figures that the one game I had to miss because of a previous commitment would be the Cardinals' highest scoring by far. And judging by the box score, it was good a contest for at least half the innings with the Rangers fighting back up until the bottom of the 6 when they had no answer to Albert's three-run homer.
  • Tonight's game was a good contest, too, up until the 6th. But I had intimations of doom ever since the Rangers broke the Redbirds' streak and got on the board first.
  • Joe Buck needs to stop talking.
  • I was very happy to see the rundown on Kinsley. These boys have to learn to respect the rocket.
  • What else to say? I'm tempted to change channels and watch cartoons, but the the fat lady hasn't sung just yet.
muckefuck: (Default)
  • Due to a condo meeting, I came in nearly two hours late and yet didn't miss the ball game. Minutes after switching on the set, I watched St Louis score the only run they would all night.
  • No complaints with Salas' performance tonight and was happy to see Scrabble do so well; who knew it would be Motte who would let us down in the 9th? I guess you can't trot out 5+ pitchers every game and not expect at least one of them to screw up.
  • What is with the La Russa hatas at the Onion? Once again last night I found myself at least as sad if not sadder about the end of the La Russa Era as the end of the Pujols Era.
  • The best thing I can say about taking the loss is that is practically guarantees the series will end in St Louis. The humiliating succession of images of dejected Brewers that concluded the NLCS reminded why I really hate triumphing on the road.
muckefuck: (Default)
  • How nice is it to have a couple of announcers who actually call the game in-between gabbing with each other in the box? In this case, moving to Fox is clearly a step up from TBS.
  • Even knowing how it turns out, I have a hard time looking at replays of Carpenter's base tag in the 1st. My mind's eye insists on countenancing what would've happened if the runner had brought his cleats down just half a foot over.
  • If the Rangers had tied it up, I was prepared to whine about Cruz robbing the Cards of at least one, maybe two runs in the 6th. But after that bad call on Beltre in the 9th, it would be even more unacceptable to complain about what could've been.
  • With the exception of Salas, who continues to underwhelm me, I'm very pleased with the pitching. I expected a lot more damage from Texas' offence.
  • Still waiting for Yadi to get his big hit. I mean, if you watched the Series in 2006, then you know it's coming.
muckefuck: (Default)
  • Not for the first time, the World Series plays havoc with my Halloween partying schedule. Ah, well, at least that's one less costume to throw together.
  • Speaking of the last time, I wish things were even more like then. For instance, I wish the Cards were playing the Tigers, since I know they can beat them.
  • I felt a little bad rooting for the Redbirds to dash the Brewers' postseason hopes. It must suck for them, chasing the Cardinals almost continually since joining the National League in '97. I sense a one-sided rivalry in the making--and with more justification than Cubs bitterness.


muckefuck: (Default)

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