I want the Red Sox to win. Of course I do. But wouldn't it be better if the Rockies gave them a little bit of a fight? If it seemed a little less like batting practice for the Red Sox and a little more like two really good teams duking it out?
I have a confession. I want the Rockies to win tonight. Just for that glimmer of competition, that small doubt that is the driving force behind every true Red Sox fan, that moment of dread. I've even decided to stop wearing the lucky socks and shirt, unwashed since we won game 5 of the ALCS. I'm not going to wash them. But I'm not going to wear them either. Remember the last World Series we won? Aside from the euphoria built into the meaning of the win, wasn't it a little disappointing? To just go in there and wallop the hell out of another team after fighting so hard to get there in the first place? Where's the drama of sport in this? Nikki, my girlfriend, refers to the National League as Triple A. Maybe she's right.
I have another confession. While watching game 3 at the parents' of a friend, I got to share a lazyboy with Jersey, the fluffiest, sweetest golden retriever perhaps known to man. As I've been in some serious dog-withdrawl for over a year now, I loved every second. I scratched her almost violently, whipping her fur up all over the place only to discover later that she was infested with ticks. Okay, so there was one, but I figure they're like mice, right? If you see one, there must be many others hidden from view. I spent the rest of the night assuming an army of ticks had imbedded themselves into my most hidden parts, feasting away while we routed the Rockies. I even made Nikki do a full-body tick check before bed.
This is kind of a lame first post. But I'm only blogging to avoid my homework. That's right. I started blogging today to avoid work I must do. How did people live before the internet?
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