Well, it was my plan to let Game Three speak for itself. It did. Now I hold a ticket to an execution, or a funeral.... How strange is baseball? If you told me when I was a little kid that I would one day hold a ticket to a game where the Red Sox would be clinching a World Series victory, and I'd take no joy in it, I'd have told you you were crazy. What a world.
Aaron Cook will try and keep the Rockies alive tonight, but I hate to tell you I don't see much point in it. Whatever magic Colorado had seemingly months ago when it was buzzsawing through the end of its schedule and the National League playoffs, it's gone now. The balls that were landing just fair are landing for the other team now, mostly since the other team puts the ball in play with relentless regularity. Could Ryan Spilborghs have hit that drive to center just a little further eight days ago? Would Todd Helton, representing the tying run, been have left on first with no outs were this game played back when the Rockies were golden? Sometimes the story the newspaper guys want to sell you is the right one. They have kept their jobs so long for a reason.
In due time, I will be able to reflect and say, "Hey, I got to go to World Series games." That's history in and of itself, let alone the fact that it's the Red Sox becoming Yankees II right before our very eyes. At some point I will appreciate my good tickets for all of this spectacle. Right now it just feels brutal that I have another game to attend.