I knew that there was something great about playoff baseball, I just couldn't quite remember what it was.
Was it the awesomeness of Fox's coverage? No...that's not it, there certainly isn't much to be enjoyed in hearing Joe Buck and Tim McCarver gush and goo over every move that Derek Jeter makes. Seriously, guys, if you catch a relay, and see a baserunner caught between bags but leaning to second...YOU THROW THE BALL TO SECOND!!!! Jeter does it because he is intelligent, so is Erik Aybar, Jimmy Rollins, Orlando Cabrera, Nick Punto and just about EVERY OTHER MIDDLE INFIELDER IN THE PLAYOFFS!!! Just because they don't wear a Yankees uniform doesn't mean they wouldn't make the same intelligent plays when pressed. Stop kissing ass and call the game.
Was it A-Rod's cold, soulless eyes? No, they make for sadness in my soul. Them and Nick Swisher's rock signs, Joba Chamberlian's rope necklace, Mark Texiera's bolster cushion neck and every single word that Joe Buck and Tim McCarver say. STOP SPLITTING THE SCREEN IN HALF AND JUST ANNOUNCE WHAT'S HAPPENING!!!!!
I KNOW!! It's stranding runners in scoring position!! I love it when that happens, guy on third, no outs, that's great...oh, wait, no...no that's not it, that made me want to gouge out my own eyes with sporks.
Wait a second, something's coming back to me. I was watching with people! There was an Angels fan and a Yankees fan...but they were both polite, and insightful and intelligent. They were willing to let me swear and spout vitriol at the tv screen, and not take it personally. They loved their teams and knew them as intimately as I know the Twins.
The shivered and shook with the highs and the lows, the leads and the deficits, the comebacks and the fallbehinds. With each pitch and swing and catch and throw they twisted and turned and lived and died. And while I tried to remain objective, while I tried to be impartial and just appreciate the game I wanted the Angels to win. I wanted it for Adenhart. I wanted it for Torii. I wanted it because I didn't want it for the Yankees.
The camaraderie is what I miss so far from Minnesota, but I won't lie, the winning, the dramatic victory was great. And as Leslie declared her undying love for Jeff Mathis, and Jen sank back into the couch in despair, I realized that this is what matters. The camraderie, the unpredictability, and the excellence of the competition. That's what makes it a pleasure to watch, a pleasure to share. That's what makes it fun.