… That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all, no matter how gaddamn sick you get of that stupid tune, and wish it would just go perch somewhere else already.
I hate Emily Dickenson.
I am not much of a fan of optimism. I prefer to expect the worst, thereby avoiding disappointment and allowing for the possibility of a pleasant surprise. As far as I’m concerned Pandora, opening that famous Box of hers a second time to release Hope, as the story goes, showed a truly staggering inability to learn from past mistakes. So when the Yankees lost Game 4, I figured, yeah, they were toast. And I have not changed my mind about that, but I was thrilled to see them win yesterday, anyway – because that means we get one more game.
It’s starting to turn chilly and gray and dark out there. The wind’s getting colder. It’s gonna be a long winter, because every winter is a long winter. But at least we get one more hunk of American League baseball before that happens, and if it turns out to be a four-hour slog that’s just fine with me, because soon there will be a months-long string of zero-hour slogs. So let Charlie Manuel and Ron Washington make a dozen pitching changes apiece; let the batters step out and call time over and over again until the announcers start whining; make these puppies last.
And as much as I strive for negativity… well, of course you never know. I actually felt pretty good about the Yanks’ chances yesterday, because of C.C. Sabathia, who even when he’s off his game can usually hold things together. I feel considerably worse about Phil Hughes’ odds, but it’s not like I haven’t seen stranger things happen. Hell, I saw stranger things happen on the subway this morning.
Damn. Shut up, you feathered nitwit.
You took the words right out of my head. Nice piece Emma!
not to go all bumpersticky on youse guys but:
Hope's fer dopes on the ropes. Have phaith in Phil that he will.
That's my groovy mantra for the next, I dunno, 33 hours or so. Feel free to use it, and even share it with yer friends if ya like.
Hope's fer dopes on the ropes. Have phaith in Phil that he will.
or here's another one you can try:
Don't be a sore schmuck! Here comes the Score Truck!
Don't be a sore schmuck! Here comes the Score Truck!
yeah, put THAT in yer megaphone and smoke it!
I don't think anyone here would called me an optimist.
But if we can get this to game seven, I' think you can throw out all scripts. Cliff Lee is *supposed* to run over the Yankees again enroute to the World Series, but game sevens rarely seem to follow the plan.
Well as much as I'm concerned for Hughesie, I couldn't have predicted that the Rangers would be stymied by Dustin Moseley. Just sayin' that you can't predict baseball.
Who knows where the mo will go. May the mo lead to Mo, in the 9th that is, saving a gem.
Prolonging the season is always a good thing. Winter is indeed a long, drawn out affair.
[3] what about a toooptimist :}
but yeah, i agree, win game 6 and then anything can happen in game 7.
i am hoping seeing colby lewis twice in a week will benefit the yankee hitters. i also have some faith that hughes won't throw 2 shit-bombs in a row.
can anyone smell friday night coming?
I like to pretend the Yankees lost game one of a three game series, and simply need to win the next two to take the series win. Just win two in a row. In these FIVE games, the Rangers have only won one more than the Yankees. No big deal.
I'll savor all the Yankee baseball I can get, because Emma's right: it's gonna be a long winter.
Game thread above if anyone wants to fall through...
Did the subway strangeness sing?