01 – The Yankees lost to the Angels and are out of the playoffs. Confession time, guys: I haven't blogged about the Yanks since July 15th (A-Rod and Mariano's "Toepick!" photo). There was a reason for that. I don't know if you were made aware by the constant media harping, but the Yanks had a very up-and-down season. And it seemed like every time they were up, I'd pop on here to rave about them, and like clockwork, they'd take a downward spiral. Me being the ridiculously superstitious sports fan that I am, I pledged not to jinx my team by writing about them. Alas, this strategy (and, okay, some pretty gutsy play by the actual athletes) only took them so far, and the season is over. Naturally, irony would have it that now that I'm free to speak at length about A-Rod's awesome (and yet, probably not MVP-worthy) season, Randy Johnson's anger issues, Mike Mussina's legacy of bad playoff hoodoo, Hideki Matsui's pathological lack of clutch play (SEVEN runners left on base last night!), or my deep and abiding love for Robinson Cano, I don't really want to. Because I am sad. Of course, the sadness has been tempered, somewhat, by one fact . . .
02 – The Red Sox got swept. Thank freaking god. And El Duque was the guy who slammed the door on them. Good for him. In the end, though, I wouldn't have cared who did what to whom, just so long as this failed experiment in BoSox success came to an end. So, good-bye to Curt "It Probably Wasn't Ketchup on the Sock, But It's Fun To Make Sox Fans' Heads Explode By Suggesting It Was" Schilling, Johnny "Pert Plus is My Co-Pilot" Damon, Mike "Your Stern and Unfunny Uncle" Timlin, Edgar "You Bring the Headlights, He'll Bring the Deer" Renteria, Manny "I Will Pull This Contract Shit Until the Day I Die Because I'm Good at Hitting a Ball" Ramirez, and David "I'm More Afraid of Him Than the Grim Hand of Death" Ortiz. See maybe one of you when the Yanks play at Fenway next year!
03 - Bartolo Colon? "Cheers" called. They say your barstool has been empty for a few weeks now. They hope you'll be back soon. Alternatively: Since you've already clearly stolen Horatio Sanz's face, body, and posture, here's hoping you at least left him with his raging weed habit, unprofessional inability to keep a straight face in skits, and general unfunniness. Or else, what will he have left? Finally: Thanks, Bartolo. You've just convinced John Travolta that he's in good enough shape to star in baseball movies.