Tonight, as promised, I watched two episodes of “The Wire” on TiVo.
People in St. Louis watched it rain. We checked in various places to verify that that’s what it was doing.
Tom Glavine had his usual fourth day of rest. So did Jeff Weaver. The Cardinals’ bullpen took it easy too.
Willie Randolph offered crumbs of platitudes to a hungry press corps, then said something else entirely to his troops. Tony La Russa pondered the intricacies of, say, lefty-righty matchups when up or down 13 runs. If he wasn’t playing some six-dimensional game of eeny-meeny with his baseball cards of Weaver and Chris Carpenter.
Postal workers moved packages of FAITH AND FEAR t-shirts through our nation’s mail system. A couple have even arrived at their new homes.
Cliff Floyd’s Achilles got slightly better. So did Albert Pujols’ hamstring and Scott Rolen’s shoulder.
El Duque thought about Willis Reed.
Tigers scouts groused and grumbled and went up in the Gateway Arch or something.
Baseball fans in two cities (and lots of kindred souls outside them) waited and analyzed and argued and fussed and fretted and sighed.
Well, it was the night for it. Now, finish whatever you’re doing, get into bed, and get some sleep. Because the weather report for Missouri tomorrow night is favorable, with a 100% chance of tension. We’ve got at least two days of baseball played full throttle, maybe three.
And this weekend? Either winter will have come down like a hammer, or we’ll be off on one final mission: to storm the gates of Baseball Heaven.