I love baseball, so that's why I have stayed up later than I should have this evening to watch what turned out to be the last game of this year's World Series.
Juan Uribe made two amazing plays in the bottom of the ninth. I like the fact that I turned to Joe to point this out about 15 seconds before Tim McCarver. (One day I'll talk about how I don't like Tim McCarver.) Not that it takes a genius to recognize that...
I wonder who the MVP will be...
It's strange to watch the Series and not feel very strongly one way or the other. I know this is petty, but I did enjoy the crestfallen look on Barbara Bush's face. (Just yesterday I read with renewed anger a story about her comments regarding the publication of photos of soldiers' caskets.) Anyhow, I don't like the Astros, particularly a couple of their players (huh - it seems I've never blogged about my intense dislike of Roger Clemens), so I was rooting for the White Sox. Plus they have gone a long time without a win. Good for them. But it's moments like this that make me realize how much I love baseball. I don't have to love the team on the field to love the game. I don't have to care so much about what team is hoisting that trophy to appreciate what that moment means.
Nice -- Jermaine Dye is the MVP. I always liked him as a Brave. I think I still have a bunch of his rookie cards.
Wow -- the old shorts uniforms. Good times.
I usually try not to count so early, but if I guess correctly, it's 97 days until pitchers and catchers report for spring training next year.