Game 151 - Red Sox
Twins 7, Red Sox 3
I bathed my kids last night, read them stories, and put them to bed at about 8:15. I turned on the Sox game just in time to see the Twinkies go up, 6-0, on a Torii Hunter longball against the game but rusty Tim Wakefield. I spent the rest of the evening surfing between the Crocodile Hunter Memorial Service (did Anthony Wiggle really need to get into costume to emcee that thing?), Bobby Flay on the Food Network, and various National League games. Can you tell that the thrill is gone?
One more measly game and the Yankees clinch the division, and 2 or 3 more than that before the Sox are officially eliminated from playoff contention. I've heard that the New York Mets clinched their division this week, but I'm not sure if that's the case - if they had, I'd expect that my colleague would have posted something.
Speaking of Whitney, he cabled me last night from Waziristan, where he's leading a group of Pashtun tribesmen in a valiant effort to unearth Osama Bin Laden's collection of Whitney Houston memorabilia. It appears that the Whitneys like to stick together. Guess I would too, were I saddled with such an unfortunate name. Between that, the painful toe fungus, and the heartbreak of chlamydia, it's been a tough few months for my pal.