The last few days have been dizzying to Phillies fans. With a cruise-control win last night and the Mets' death-by-a-thousand-HBPs loss, the team suddenly controls its destiny.
Regardless of what the Mets do this afternoon, if Adam Eaton can throw five innings of three-run ball or less in the later game, I think the Phillies will win the division. Joel Hanrahan gives the Phillies hitters fits, but they're hitting too well in the clutch right now to choke, I think. I hope.
Last night, I watched both games in a bar with my friend Shea, an Astros fan and mercenary Phillies supporter this week. If this post reads like I'm tired, well, you can thank the Blue Moons and White Russians that were part of my balanced diet last night.
Quite a mix, actually - Blue Moons and White Russians. I call that diet Cerulean Sputnik.
Nothing? Bah. OK, fine, I'll get some more sleep. Go Phillies.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
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Appropriate - this month is the fiftieth anniversary of Sputnik. But you're a reporter. You knew that.
ReplyDeleteI wish my optimism gear would kick completely in. I won't be happy until the magic number is -1.
Suddenly last week, I realized that, in 1980, my first-born child was around 11 months old when the playoffs began. We were meeting up with family near Harrisonburg, VA, during the NLCS. This year, my first-born grandchild will be almost 11 months old and we are tentatively planning a trip to the Harrisonburg area. Karma?