Whether or not they can go all the way and win Game 7 tonight is very much in question, but I intend to be there and see for myself—I called around and wangled a ticket to the game. Yankee Stadium is a horrible place for a Red Sox fan to be at the very best of times, if not Hell itself, then surely the very lowest cellar of purgatory, but I think it must still beat television. After three cold nights at Fenway and one warm one in front of Harlan Ellison’s glass teat (when the Bronx fans were clearly freezing), I am prepared to testify in any court of law that being there is better. I think that if Fox had shown me one more shot of Curt Schilling’s bloody ankle last night I would have screamed—not in horror or pity, but in rage. And anyone with a lick of sense watches such big-money games only with the volume turned all the way down. Listening to the endlessly blathering announcers always makes me think of what my mother used to say about the village idiot when she was growing up in Prout’s Neck back in the late 1920s: “He’d talk about moonlight on a sunny afternoon.”

But never mind. That sounds bilious, and I’m not in a bilious mood this morning. Far from it. Now that the Red Sox have come so far, I find it nearly impossible to believe they will come all the way…yet not completely impossible. I know this much: if there’s to be a miracle, I intend to see it with my own eyes.

Time to hit save, eject the disc, and shut this machine down.

Ruth King’s boy is going to New York City.

SO: Marky Mark made those boo-birds from the other night eat their words.

A-Rod slapping Bronson’s glove off was a weird counterpoint to B-yo hitting him to start the brawl in July. What a bald-faced cheater.

And, man, Joe West has to be the worst umpire in the league—the 2-1 to Sierra was down the pipe.

But the person at Yankee Stadium I feel sorriest for is the fan who had Bellhorn’s homer in his hands and dropped it. Come on, dude! Nice that the umps finally got that one right.

Overfuckingjoyed,

Stew

SK: Thank God Tony Clark still owed us a couple of Special Ks.

Off to NYC.

SO: The rule book calls what A-Rod did “an unsportsmanlike act.” Fans everywhere are calling it an unmanlike act. So our 340K pitcher once again beat their 252M hitter. Justice prevails… for now. Just remember: the price of freedom is eternal vigilance. And cheaters never win.

ALCS Game 7