I'm watching Game 6 of the 2004 American League Championship Series on DVD right now. Curt Schilling, after undergoing some sort of freakish surgery on his right ankle, mows down the frustrated Yankees for seven glorious innings (yes, Curt, we'll overlook the fact that you're a shamelessly self-promoting, egomaniacal Republican any time you feel like doing that kind of work again). Mark Bellhorn breaks out of his hitting hibernation and smacks an opposite-field homer to give the Sox the lead in the fourth. Then A-Rod, with his Hamburger Helper glove [see my pictures], slaps the ball out of punk-ass Boston pitcher Bronson Arroyo's glove in the eighth inning and completely embarrasses himself and all of New York in the process. Finally Keith Foulke comes in for the ninth, striking out Ruben Sierra to end the game after having put two runners on base thanks to some dubious pitch calls by home plate umpire Joe West. Wow! No team had ever come back from three games down in a baseball playoff series to force a game seven until these clowns did it. Simply amazing.
Could I ever get tired of watching this? No. In fact, I think I want to die while watching Game 7 of this series or Game 4 of the subsequent World Series sweep of the St. Louis Cardinals. It just never gets old.
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