(Title of this post is in honour of the Boss)
The last two nights have been pure magic, and have served as a reminder that no matter how bad things get and how much we suffer, sometimes we get rewarded for all those wasted hours.
Seriously, is there anything better than seeing a much-maligned minor league middle infielder take this obnoxious mouth-breathing asshole deep?
Let's be honest: this has been a long, draining season, pretty much from day 2 onwards (remember day 1, though? That was awesome. 162-0 comin' up!). Untimely injuries, untimely hitting, and a general season-long malaise reflected in our endless two-step with the .500 mark. The fatigue from another season without meaningful September ball was apparent in our failure to post anything for over a week (although we weren't helped by Razzer and Portnoy taking simultaneous vacations while yours truly has been viciously trial prepping. What's your excuse, Canate, you useless Rule V bastard?).
But last night sure felt good, watching the boys sweep my most hated opponent by roughing up my most hated player. It'll provide a happy memory through those fall and winter months when the shitty team I support has a gentle aquatic mammal on its uniform instead of a pissed-off bird.
And for Razzer's sake, in case he missed it on his travels, I should point out that Jesse "not as ugly or fat as Gus, but equally awkward and just as troublesome from a sabermetric perspective" Litsch (I'm open to suggestions for a shorter nickname) looked pretty decent last night. He may well have a shot at that #5 spot next year.
And finally, as proof that hope springs eternal in the Toronto baseball fan, this is the complete text of the first email I received this morning when I got to work:
Is Russ Adams for real?