Monday, September 19, 2005

Wake Me Up When September Ends


So what'd I miss?

Seriously, I've tried to like Frank. I do enjoy his old man crustiness; I think it's funny and even sometimes refreshing.

But Saturday night is proof positive that he stinks.

Baseball. It's a cruel mistress. Commissioner Giamatti had it right:
"It's designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything is new again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops, and leaves you to face the fall alone."
Here comes the rain again.


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