Thursday, October 21, 2004

Game Seven

8 PM Well, whooda thunkit? Just three days ago, who would've imagined we'd be watching Game 7 between the Yankees and the Red Sox. Through three looooooong games, games that reached the event horizon of a black hole, where time dilates to near infinity, the Red Sox forgot they were a bunch of losers, forgot the Yankees were invincible.

There was a beautiful noise at the end of last night's game. It was the sound of 55,000 Yankee fans Shutting Up!

How cool would it be if, in this election year, Boston and Houston faced each other in the World Series--the home team of John Kerry versus the home team of Enron. If you wrote that into a movie, no one would believe it. It would be epic.

During the commercials I'm phone banking for the Kerry/Edwards campaign, calling up volunteers in battleground states and asking them to do something I'd never have the guts to do: walk door-to-door and ask people to vote for Kerry. Then again, I live in a hostile environment. If I still lived in Columbia, MD--the Land of Pleasant Living, the place so enlightened and progressive, interracial couples are the rule instead of the exception--I might feel differently. Studies show that people are much more likely to vote if they speak to someone in person rather than getting a flyer or talking to someone on the phone.

Yaaay! Jim Edmonds of the Cardinals just hit a walk-off home run in the 12th to send it to Game 7. You could tell as soon as it left the bat. One of the most sublime experiences in this world must be rounding third and running home to plunge into the biggest group hug of your life.

Anyway, today when I phone-banked I gave myself a caramel cream for every call I made. I had no idea how much fun it would be to call people in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Florida, and have them bitch to me about Bush. So now I'm feeling a little sick from all the chewy, creamy democracy in my tummy. Mmmm...democracy.

8:30 PM Those fans look nervous. Heh heh.

8:40 PM Crap, what lousy coaching by the third base coach, sending Damon home to be thrown out. If only he'd listened to me when I shouted "Stay at 3rd!" But they never do.

8:41 PM Well, a home run from Ortiz put a little balm on that boo-boo. I'll try not to remember that it could've been a 3-run homer if Damon had just held at third like I told him to.

8:58 PM Yay! I've signed up two people to canvass this weekend, just from the last five calls. Apparently the phone banking has been so successful they're expanding it to Maine and Iowa tonight.

Today the Red Sox, instead of taking batting practice on the field, watched the movie Miracle, about the '80 Olympic men's hockey team.

Hey, Kids Pick Kerry!! Nickelodeon's web site just

9:12 PM We interrupt this sentence to go, "HOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLYYYYY FUUUUUUUUDDDGE......" Only I didn't say fudge.

Johnny Damon, in the most supreme redemption since the Martyrdom of St. Paul, just hit a grand freaking slam to make it 6-0, Good Guys. He's been 3 for 26 the whole series up to this point.

9:43 My brother called me right after Damon's home run. He's the only person I know who hates the Yankees as much as I do. We had a cautious gloatfest about how great it will (would) be if Boston actually pulled it off, how the Yankees will (would be the biggest chokers in sports history. Jeter just drove in Cairo to make it 6-1, Saints of Baseball.

9:53 Johnny Damon is the most beautiful person who is not my husband that I have ever seen. He just made it 8-1, Angels of Light, with a two-run homer. I think the Yankee fans are going to cry. They are so very, deathly quiet.

10:21 Johnny Damon (yes, him again) somehow just pulled off a infield double. Soon he'll have the lame and the blind lining up in centerfield to touch him. I'm thinking about having him help me out with my dog's sore paw.

It's late here, but only 7:30 in Washington, which is where I'm phone banking right now. That's Washington State. Though Washington, D.C. occasionally feels like the Twilight Zone, it remains in the Eastern Time Zone.

11:08 Terry Francona just woke up the Yankee fans by putting Pedro Martinez in the game, which is totally wacked. Seven runs ahead, they should be saving him for the World Series. Now they're all chanting "Who's Your DAD-dy?" which is surpassed in obnoxiousness only by the Atlanta's Tomahawk Chop . Now it's 8-3, God's Gifts.

11:32 Whew! They made it out of the scary seventh, then the eighth, meanwhile adding a single-shot home run by last night's hero, Mark Bellhorn, making it 9-3, Warriors of Righteousness.

Let's go, insurance runs! I'm far too paranoid to think that six runs is enough to hold off the Yankees. Geez, how damaged am I? I'm like a horror movie heroine who keeps having nightmares about the killer long after she's hacked him to bits.

But it ain't over until the fat man cries, then fires Joe Torre.

Cabrera just knocked in Trot Nixon to make it 10-3, Miracle Men.

Bottom of the 9th: Do you think by now the Yankees just want to go home, or do you think they think they can come back? Matsui looks like he's still playing, just hit a single, but Williams looks like he would like very much to lie down.

11:59 One more out. I feel too weak to type.

12:07 The game ended at midnight, but it's taken me this long to pull my jaw off the floor. I can't believe it actually happened. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up and it's going to be Sunday night the bottom of the ninth again, and Derek Jeter and Johnny Damon have to decide the series with a Jello-wrestling match. Oh wait, that last part was a different dream.

How could the world get any more beautiful? Mmmm, perhaps if the Massachusetts Magic rubs off on a certain candidate....

Final score: 10-3, Boston Red Sox.


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