"Hell may have no fury like a woman scorned but heaven hath no sweetness like a sports fan vindicated." - Samcat

Monday, October 16, 2006

Playing Favorites

(photo from Yahoo! Sports)

My own personal Tiger is, without question, Placido Polanco's Head Sock. I know Sam calls it a "snood" but to me, "Snood" is a computer game designed to waste hours and hours of college students' time and their parents' money. So a Head Sock it will be. I had one of those once. It was supposed to be useful for skiing and other cold weather ventures but I didn't like it because it always made me feel as though I was choking. I am glad that Mr. Polanco does not seem to have that problem.

I would also like to point out that a combination of Marianne, Amy, myself, Jack Daniels and Jose Cuervo called the game- and series-winning home run. In the interest of honestly, I should probably tell you that we actually decided it was going to be hit by either Neifi Perez or, in a moment of sheer brilliance and fairy tale happiness, Kenny Rogers, pinch hitting. But we will also take a shot by Mags and his special hair. Because Mags' hair is special. Very special.

It's also possible that in the split second that Mags swung and the ball went screeching, without a doubt, towards the seats, you could see Huston Street's soul leave his body. It was eerily reminiscent of the way Albert Pujols broke Brad Lidge last year. Lidge has never been the same. I weep for Street's future. 'Tis too bad. He seems like a nice boy.

But I am psyched for these Tigers. The second they got matched up against the Yankees, they became my postseason favorites and I'm glad to see they've kept up their end of the bargain. And is it just me or has Kenny Rogers gone from "crazy jackass" to "loveable uncle-type person with a dash of crazy?" Because I find myself hoping that Fox will show Rogers in the dugout so I can delight in his spasms of insanity and fist pumps of badassery.

Of course, anything would beat listening to Tim McCarver who, I swear to god, is just spouting out random words now. "Fastball!" "Fried chicken!" "Phantom of the Opera!" Joe Buck's hostility is now plain to hear and poor Luis Gonzalez, in shots of the booth, is clearly mentally willing himself to his happy place. He was reduced to explaining basic baseball principles to McCarver the other night and I am just waiting for the moment when Gonzalez says, "You know what? Screw this shit. I've won a World Series. Someone paid $10,000 for my chewed gum. I don't need this bullshit," and storms out of the booth. THAT would be good television. Perhaps then someone can take the inevitable step of putting McCarver and Lou Piniella in the booth together, giving them microphones that aren't plugged into anything and telling them they're broadcasting the World Series on ESPN59 while they call every white player "Brandon" or "Jeff," and every non-white player "Carlos," except for Albert Pujols whom they call "Luis." Hopefully, the combined stupidity and alcohol fumes would create a black hole and they'd disappear forever, never to haunt any of us further.

As for the players that actually are named "Carlos," they're doing their damndest to tear it up. CarlosSquared knocked three homers yesterday en route to a 12-5 win over the Cardinals in St. Louis. And it's not that I don't like St. Louis, as they were more than accomodating in 2004 when the Sox straight up rolled over them in four games to take the series, it's just...I like the Mets better. I like Jose Reyes and David Wright and Carlos Delgado and, of course, Pedro. This is, of course, with the understanding on the part of Mets fans that Pedro is not really theirs. I mean, he's theirs, he's on their team, he pitches for them and cashes their paychecks. But he's not REALLY theirs, you know? What I mean is, I don't need Mets fans telling me about Pedro. "Oh, well Pedro will do this." Don't tell me what Pedro will do. I know Pedro. Pedro and I were tight. I know how it works. It's like when Dodger fans try to school you on Nomar. Yeah, don't do that. We know.

Anyway, that aside, David Wright is, without question, the best of the New York third basemen and while I don't have quite the crush on him that some people do, I certainly enjoy watching him play. Same goes for Jose Reyes who is reaching "Manny and Papi eating applesauce" levels of hilarity with his dancing and hopping around and what not. They're just a fun team. I want good things for them.

Also, I don't quite know why but David Eckstein annoys the crap out of me. He's a sneaky little shit and reminds me of a mosquito just waiting to be swatted. Don't like him. Don't like him at all. Which is strange because I have no problem with the wee players on other teams (Brian Roberts, the aforementioned David Wright and Reyes), but I cannot stand Eckstein.

So all that leads to...Go Mets! But Go Tigers more! Amy asked me who I wanted to win the World Series the other day and I said, "Tigers." "Wait," she said, "I thought you wanted the Mets to win." "No," I said, "I want the Mets to lose the World Series." "Oh," she said, "I guess that makes sense."

It certainly does. After all, I've never seen Jose Reyes in a Head Sock.