Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Go Twins Go

The moment I've been waiting for arrived a few hours before Game 1 of the ALDS in the Bronx. It's the turning point of my career. In moviespeak, we call this the denouement, i.e. the spot where the proverbial plot no longer can be considered thin, such as when Mr. Miyagi shows Danielson that all his waxing on and painting of the fence was rally karate training and not just slave labor.

I'm offically a jaded journalist.

I know this because I'm a Yankee fan but I secretly hope the Twins win the best-of-five series. Why you ask? Why would I become a bad guy like when The Rock joined The Corporation?

There are several reasons I could put forth to help make sense of this new world development (Torii Hunter is awesome; would like to see a small market team win again; tired of watching Yanks win all the time; no more Andy Pettitte, just to name a few), but they all would disguise the truth, which is I'm lazy.

The quicker the Yankees remove themselves from these playoffs, the sooner I can resume a normal life. Less Yankees equals less work for me, at least until the standard perennial Joe Torre Watch goes into effect after the World Series.

My pursuit of occupational Utopia marks the turning point of my life. When I entered this business, I eagerly awaited the day I could call myself a jaded journalist. It took 4 years, 1 month and 1 day. That's longer than some presidents serve in office, but shorter than the shelf life of most cake products at 7-11. Not a bad range to fall in between.

I'm that bitter guy in the corner now. The over/under on how long until I wind up in OTB on a first-name basis with the teller is 318 days. I'm putting $4 across the board on the under.

It was hard to watch the ninth inning last night, when Stony Brook University graduate and my fantasy closer Joe Nathan shut down my Yankees. I hoped for a 1-2-3 inning, but I also hoped for back-to-back-to-back homers from Ruben Sierra, John Olerud and Enrique Wilson.

Confusion reigned. Inner turmoil caused my spleen to stop producing whatever it is that it produces to make my body function at a relatively normal level. My youth is officially gone. I'm an old man.

Go Twins!

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