Now it's over

And I'm okay with that.

I mean, look at this season:

At the beginning of it, my heart said we could finish third...my head said, probably 4th. And we nearly won the dang thing.

If our four most consistent starters had asked me for a beer, I would have said: "uh...gonna need to see some ids." Now, even Cakeburn seems like a steady, reliable star-to-be.

We beat the four pitchers of the apocolypse.

We lost the greatest pitcher who breathes oxygen, and an outfielder from the heavens and came within two runs of going to the playoffs.

We lost the most adorable rightfielder in baseball, and replaced him with a big money saving wunderkid.

We had an infield that occasionally included an Opie look-a-like, a grizzled prospector, and a bunch of guys I haven't created funny characters for, but they played like all stars (occasionally).

We paired a garden gnome with the lost art of supraction and created magic.

And best of all, we started this blog, which, in case you didn't know, is totally awesome.

I watched tonight's game with 8 colleagues, then 20 people in a downtown bar, then discussed it with family and my co-blogger in crime. And everywhere I went there was one opinion:

It's okay.

We're young and getting better every day. We're tough and battle-tested. We've been through the fires of a playoff chase and are ready to go through it again. We'll be back next year, a year wiser, stronger, faster. The Sox? Older. The Indians? Weaker. The Tigers? Slower. The Royals? Well...they might have a shot. 

But the point is: we don't have to win it all right now. It would have been nice, but it's not necessary. We've got time. We're good. We'll get better. Our season is over, but we'll move on. We aren't the Yankees. So our attitude is not: win or else. We're proud of how our boys played, and we're hopeful for the future.

As a Montanan Expatriate, let me say: "Ya done good fellas, real good."

P.s. In case you were wondering, your peanuts ain't done yet. We'll be back to joke about the playoffs, the offseason, and, of course, next year.

It's not over 'till it's over

...and sometimes, it's seemingly never over.

So, the Sox beat Detroit and now we have to play a tiebreaker tomorrow.
At that point, it may or may not be over, and we may or may not have to play Tampa later this week in round 1 of the playoffs.

I'm trying to take a very Zen attitude towards this whole situation.
Che sera, sera. Whatever will be will be. If we win, we win. If we don't we don't.

I also feel like no mater what happens tomorrow, whoever goes to the playoffs deserves to be there. The Twins and the Sox have both fought tooth and nail for this division title. Nobody thought either team would even be in the running for a division championship, and here we are in a final battle for a playoff spot. We've fought hard. They've fought hard. Obviously I'd love to see the Twins win this one and go on to the playoffs, but if it's the Sox, nobody could say they didn't earn it.

Peace, love and prosperity to you all...even A.J.

Now I will go sit in the lotus position and listen to Yanni.










p.s. - it's on bitches.

The End....?

We, your loyal and intrepid reporters, had many questions during the final game of the season. Including: Which Twins are most like the Beatles (circa Sgt. Pepper)? If I have the brain of a brontosaurus, why don't I have the neck of one? Is Li'l Nicky Punto, really all that li'l? Why doesn't anyone wear knickerbockers any more? Could we construct a rudimentary trebuchet and use it to launch children at the outfield?

Though these questions are all worthy of exploration (and answers*) the one question that dominated was: if a season ends without certainty about our postseason fate, will the fans care?

To be sure, we cared about the game. We didn't like the whole "wasted opportunities in the early innings" thing. We definitely liked the whole "Royals can't seem to throw the ball from first to second base" thing. But we also became obsessed with the score down the first base line. The one that read: CLE 1-CWS 0, then, CLE 1-CWS 2, and finally, CLE 1-CWS 5. And through it all, we watched and hoped and heard those around us saying: "c'mon Cleveland, get some runs...".

When the final score flashed, and we knew for sure that it would not be over today, we went back to wanting one thing and one thing only: more runs. Two was not safe, not any more. But with the addition of two runs on a Delmon single, and two more on Joe's triple (triple?really?you're a catcher, man...you should not run that much), it was over and we were still ahead.

But we now have no control. Only the hope that the Tigers will take tomorrow's game seriously and/or that the White Sox will again be distracted by delicious delicious cake. And so, we were happy, but not ecstatic; pleased, but not satisfied.

So, the answer to the ultimate question is: of course we care about the end of the season. But, the uncertainty sours much of what could be sweet sweet victory.

*The answers to the other questions are: Denard, Justin, Brendan and Carlos (as John, Paul, George and Ringo respectively), because that would be silly, yes...if 5'10 is l'il, no good reason, and we could...but probably would be charged with child abuse*

K takes over:

Even though this game wasn't really the climactic deciding moment that a final game of the season in a ridiculously tight pennant race should be, it was still a great day at the ball park. I was again reminded why I love September baseball... in football, every game is vitally important. In baseball, fans (not excluding myself) take a more lackadaisical attitude all through May/June/July, and then suddenly as the season draws to a close, we seem to suddenly realize "Oh...this game actually does matter," and the atmosphere becomes electric. We also come to realize that even though there are 162 games, each one really is potentially season-deciding. As my smelly colleague pointed out...if we'd won even *one more game* this season, we wouldn't be in our current position of limbo. One measly game. It could have been yesterdays game, or one of those games we lost to Seattle when they swept us, or ANY of those games in August when we should have won and the bullpen blew it. We don't see the importance of these make-or-break moments until they've passed us by.

And now, here we are with our fate in the hands of the Detroit Tigers.

Two years ago, we watched in suspense as the Tigers were defeated by Kansas; we took the division championship and Torii Hunter sent the Royals a case of beer. Now, in 2008, we lose a series to the Royals and tomorrow we'll be cheering on Detroit against Chicago. Fickle alliances are formed and re-formed.

On a completely different note, today was Children's appreciation day.

In addition to showing our appreciation for children by wishing we could use a trebuchet to launch them into the outfield, we made good buddies with the two little kids sitting behind us, who appeared to love shenanigans.

Partway through the game, I started to notice little specks of popcorn landing on and around me. "Where are these mysterious popcorn chunks coming from?" I wondered. After being hit by a somewhat larger piece, my blogger-in-crime turned around to the two giggling smartasses sitting 2 or 3 rows behind us. "Were you....throwing popcorn at us?" he asked.

"Nnnno....."

"That looks like a lie," I said to the kid.

As it turned out, he was blowing popcorn pieces at us through a rolled up poster, like a dart gun. The genius of their plan was that they weren't actually lying when they said they weren't throwing things. I think their mother found it less amusing than we did.

So back to the point. Baseball.

As cool as it was that we won, I wasn't sure how to feel afterwards. Should I be ecstatically happy? Confused? Stressed? Sort of mildly OK with life? All of the above? I'm still not sure.

Tomorrow we will go back to work, and we will sneak glances at the game in Chicago, but regardless of it's outcome we will care, tomorrow, the next day, and ever after. No matter what happens - it sure has been a great season.

Guys...

Did you not see my post yesterday? Did you not get that you were supposed to win the game?That if you  had won that game,  win today would put you in to the post season no matter what the White Sox did? Do you want to wait on pins and needles for Chicago to decide whether they'd rather barbecue in October than play baseball?

Now, I'll ignore the team's ignorance and give you another pep talk because something bothers me far more than a low readership count. Yesterday, back when we were winning, I saw MLB's dreamy eyed view of the post-season, you know, the one with the non-real blogger not really blogging about the postseason. Anyway, he was gushing about teams in the playoffs: "Dodger Blue." "The Phitin' Phils." and "The Gritty Southsiders."

Excuse me? Are the "Gritty Southsiders" in the Playoffs already? Are the Gritty Southsiders even in the lead? Did the Gritty Southsiders win their last three games against the Supractalicious Twins? Did someone grant the "Gritty Southsiders" immunity from earning their postseason? Or did MLB decide to rush out this ad without thinking about our awesomeness?

We weren't supposed to pitch well without Johan. But five guys who would look more at home sitting around a high school cafeteria table than a major league bullpen have kept us in this.

We weren't supposed to produce offensively without Torii. But our stalwarts stepped up in big games, and with the help of a magician in left, a crazy man in center, and a raw rookie who loves vinyl siding in right, we're still in this.

We've been looked over and written off too many times. We've been discounted, discredited, and dismissed too often. And now it's time to shut everybody else up. 

Major League Baseball does not expect us to do this. All manner of pundits do not care if we do this. FOX and TBS desperately hope that we don't do this.

Screw 'em.

Let's go to the playoffs.

Today's Game Plan:

Okay guys here's what we've got to do today:

Do not let the fact that Dick and Bert aren't calling the game distract us.

Do not worry about what the Sox do.

Do not let the Royals ruin our chance at awesomeness.

Play the game with the same intensity and pride we've played with all season.

Or perhaps to simplify matters. Here's today's game plan in one word:

WIN.

That is all.

An explanation of awesomeness

Now that we've both gotten our adoration out of our system...back to silliness.

I must explain one of the reasons we won. The triple hitting, bunt making, whirling dervish of pure energy: Carlos Gomez. Or, as he is known to frequent readers: Mojo GOGO!

At the start of the game, Mojo Gogo was not his unstoppable self. He was...in fact, not much of anything at all. He even ran into his compadre Denard in right with a thud so audible it almost broke my heart.

But a few batters later, after Kevin Slowey had been felled by a line drive off his body (while being jeered by a sox fan in my bar), the following conversation took place, as Slowey lay prone on the ground.

SLOWEY: [Cough...cough]

GOGO: No...Kevin...speak to me!

SLOWEY: So cold...so very cold...

GOGO: Sorry, I was thawing hams on your legs. 

MORNEAU: Hey, why are you guys suddenly all black and white?

GOGO: SHUT UP! IS IMAGINATION LAND!! Stay wit me SloSlo!!

SLOWEY: If I don't make it through this-- [Wretching Cough]

GOGO: Don' say dat!! You will make it!! We'll buy dat Shrimping Boat!!

SLOWEY: But I don't like--

GOGO: SHRIMPING BOAT!!

SLOWEY: Okay. [Coughs up small piece of lung] But Gogo?

GOGO: Yes SloSlo?

SLOWEY: Avenge me.

GOGO: Avenge?

MORNEAU: It means to seek retribution for a wrong done. Like beating the crap out of a team that's hit a ball right off of our pitcher.

GOGO: Thank you mountainous first baseman type man. SloSlo?

SLOWEY: [Cough] Yes Gogo?

GOGO: I will avenge you, and these bastardos will DIBIMIHAN!!

SPAN: And mine!

PUNTO: And mine!

MAUER: And mine!

CASILLA: And mine!

GOGO: In the 10th inning!!

ALL: Whaaa?

GOGO: For dramatic effect.

ALL: Ohhhh.

So it had been declared...and so it was.

Wow.

Wow.

I can't remember the last time any single game of baseball has made me feel both utterly crushed and overwhelmingly elated in the span of 2 hours. At 8:30 I was ready to stick my head in a broiler and end it all...and at 10 I started to feel hopeful again.... and at 10:25 I was jumping around the living room with my dad, letting out victory cries that probably woke up everyone who was sleeping within a 3 mile radius (except my mom who somehow stayed asleep on the couch).

We won. We came back from a 6-1 deficit to win...and we did it despite the fact that everything went wrong that possibly could have gone wrong. I mean sure, now I can look back and think that Carlos Gomez and Denard Span crashing into eachother trying to make the same catch is kind of hilarious...but at the time...NOT FUNNY AT ALL. It might seem now like Slowey getting beaned in the arm and missing the throw to Justin wasn't really that big a deal, but at that moment I almost stood up and walked out of the room. There were at least 5 points during the game when I decided we were totally effed. All of these times, I was wrong.

Also, most of the important plays were made not by Joe or Justin, but by guys who are barely old enough to drink. Carlos Gomez, Alexi Casilla, Denard Span...these guys were all vital to our win last night. Good job guys! Even though they don't have the experience of the Sox lineup, there's something about their fire and enthusiasm that's just so....cool.

Awww...they're all growed up...

Even if we don't make it to the playoffs.

Even if we don't win the series vs. Kansas (even though we should)

...we'll always have this night, and the memory of how very, very awesome it was.