Well,
now I know that a baseball playoff game in 2016 can take 2 hours and 36 minutes
just like game seven in the 1960 World Series.
You just shave off a few hits, walks and runs. There were 24 hits in 1960 and 9 last night;
5 walks in 1960 and 1 last night; 19 runs scored in 1960 and 5 last night. Other than that, both games were exactly the
same.
Clare
and her fiancé Chris were here watching the game with us last night; my
daughter is not taking things well. Me,
I’ve reached an age where I know whoever wins the Series, nobody on either
team, Indians or Cubs, is going to pay our bills stop by for a visit. Clare will learn this soon enough. Until then, my job is to act as the older,
wiser White Sox fan.
Of
all things, “Star Trek the Next Generation” is giving me some solace right
now. There’s an episode where the
Enterprise is hiding from the Borg in some sort of sensor-dampening nebula (I
verge on being a Trekkie). This gives
Captain Pickard a chance to contemplate the call of duty and the possibility of
death. Obviously, that’s stayed with me. And then there’s the episode where Data studies
humanity through acting in “Henry V,” the Shakespeare play with the “band of
brothers” speech. White Sox fans, unite
and go bravely into battle with your brothers and sisters. Our voices united may power the Indians to
victory.
Or
not. But the sun will rise either way,
and we’ll live to fight another season.
Tribe in seven.
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