Empty

I leaned forward on the edge of the couch in the darkening living room. The dog slept nearby, and the only light in the room was the television's ghostly flicker.

For the past two hours, I alternately laughed, jumped up and down, annoyed the dog, and screamed as the Cardinals tried like Hell to throw away a shot at the World Series this year. Fortunately, good triumphed over evil, but I feel like crying, I'm so damn tired.

Some thoughts:

• "Why does La Russa hate us so much?" I asked Tim over the phone when Isringhausen started pitching the 10th. "It's not La Russa who hates us - it's Isringhausen," Tim replied.
  
• Going into the 12th inning, it dawned on me that somewhere in a towering steel and glass office building, some Fox executive is looking down upon us and getting pissed that the Cardinals/Astros game may cut into the Boston/New York game's National Anthem. Fortunately, Edmonds solved the problem, so we weren't subjected to Tim McCarver analyizing the singer's vocalization.
  
• Brad Lidge isn't human. There's no way the guy can keep pitching. I've decided he's an android. I thought about running down to the ballpark and proving it, but I may not survive when it goes into kill mode. I'd try to kneecap Beltran, but Steve "Carlos Beltran is soooo dreamy" Lyon would probably take the hit for him.
  
• At Yankee Stadium, in a dark, dank room with pipes running across the ceiling and water dripping down to the floor, I'm sure George Steinbrenner has Kevin Brown's family tied up - insurance in case he doesn't perform well tonight. (Judging from the score, I hope Kevin has a backup family). Man, if the Yankees lose, I can't imagine what will happen to that organization.
  
• They say Julian Tavarez broke his hand in two places when punching the wall. I disagree. I think La Russa broke it: "Okay, Julian. Hold still! This one's for blowing the game." SNAP! "And this one's for throwing a fit on national television." SNAP! "Don't do it again."
  

Perhaps I shouldn't be drinking by myself during baseball playoff games . . .