Off To Chicago
You're on your own today, kiddos...if yous're looking for some action, you can either check out the trailer for the new Guest/Levy vehicle, For Your Consideration, or you can read my fanboy review of the Beck show from Wednesday night. The choice is yours, Slackers.
A handful of quick notes on the NLCS Game 7, just because:
1. Willie Randolph made two horrendous pitching non-decisions in this game. Lost in the shuffle of Endy Chavez's incredible catch was the fact that Oliver Perez should not have been left in to pitch to Scott Rolen. The Mets entered the game needing five solid innings from Perez, and he gave them five and a third better-than-expected frames. At that point Willie should have brought in The Ageless Hispanic, Roberto Hernandez, and he got lucky when Chavez bailed him out. And, of course, there's the obvious point: You win or lose the game with Wagner on the mound in the ninth. Heilman deserved to get smacked around just for Willie's stupid gamble.
2. First and second, no out in the ninth...isn't this the spot where you actually play National League beisbol, pull back Cliff Floyd (or Chris, as McCarver says) from the on-deck circle and insert a guy into order who can bunt the runners into scoring position? I'm not saying that's the correct move, but with Uncle Cliffy all hobbled and slap hitter Jose Reyes on deck, that sure seemed like the right decision to me.
3. Donnie Fiedler's back, and he and his newlywed bride joined me for the game. We decided that the Flying Molina Brothers and their proud patriarch would be utterly insane if they didn't open a Molina Sperm Bank for all the potential parents that want an heir in the mold of an excellent defensive catcher with a classic backstop build. Guaranteed millions, an investment for the ages. Now all they need is just a little bit of seed money. I'm fucking great at puns.
Anyway, onto the World Series. Have a stellar weekend. Dit-ka.