World Series Game 3
I've been waiting since the Boston series to actually be home to watch a game and blog along, so here goes.
7:30 PM. Good crowd at the Ilk house. Astros replace their "Back To Back Wild Card" banner with a National League Champs banner. Back To Back Wild Cards isn't much to crow about in my book, it's like "hi, we're perpetual bridesmaids to the Cardinals!"
7:40 PM. Oswalt's first offering to Pods. High and outside. Oswalt's second offering, down the pipe heat. The Better Half says he goes 0 fer 4 tonight. Strike 3 called on a vicious hook with 18" of drop.
7:41 PM. Iguchi to the right side, base hit. Dog's already starting to whine even though he just peed 10 minutes ago. Dye with the buzzkill GIDP. 6-3.
7:53 PM. Killer Bees get to Garland even though Willy "I bat second for a National League team" Taveras can't drop a bunt. Groundout Garland does his job to get out of the inning, but the 'stros are up 1-0.
7:59 PM. DJ Selig in the hizzouse! Nice headphones. Oh yeah, leadoff double by Paulie.
8:07 PM. Opportunity squandered. Then another one squandered. Roy Oswalt lives up to every Southern stereotype possible. Kenny Chesney and NASCAR. Yee haw.
8:21 PM. 1-2-3 go the White Sox. On my 3rd beer and the grumbling's growing a little among the ranks. Maybe the Giordano's will settle the masses.
8:26 PM. IT'S NOT DODGEBALL, JUAN!
8:36 PM. I threw my hat across the room. Need more be said? If Garland's going to nibble and hang, he's going to get chewed up and hung. Oh yeah, and Oswalt's getting every call.
8:39 PM. What's a fastball, Scooter? A ball that goes slow? Oh, and what's plate patience, Paulie?
8:55 PM. The reverse Crede jinx works like a charm. The Better Half says "he fucking sucks." Marko says "he blows." Home run. 4-1 Astros.
9:14 PM. Wow. Wowza. Dye's jersey puckered...but hey--who cares! 5-4 Go-Go White Sox. Crede gets hit, and Scrap Iron's going nots. I smell bad blood brewing and it's about time. Everett up on the rail screaming.
9:29 PM. Efficiency, for at least one inning, thy name is Jon Garland. Ozzie says Garner got a "leel esited"in the last frame and has to protect his players.
9:40 PM. Juan Uribe > Derek Jeter. At least armwise.
10:16 PM. Two things you don't see very often--Steve Perry at a baseball game and Willie Harris on base. Gahhh. Iguchi's postseason struggles continue...well, for the most part.
10:33 PM. Ozzie has a signal for Dustin Hermanson that's the opposite of Bobby Jenks. Hermanson on, and my chewing-at-the-skin-around-the-nails habit I got rid of years ago is back in full force. Marko keeps dropping F bombs.
10:37 PM. Fuck a duck. I see cobwebs on Hermanson's right arm.
10:58 PM. Talk up here has turned to Lisa Dergan. Google image searches were executed. El Duque on the bump.
11:14 PM. Tension reliever (HEY, STRIKE THREE!)...we're inventing stories about the bratty little kid jumping up and down behind the screen. Theory is that he's a distressed product of divorce acting out his hatred toward Mommy.
11:32 PM. My, we're slappy. Now making up stories about Jason Lane and how he looks like one of those sad hobo clowns you see in paintings on little kids' walls. Meanwhile, Vizcaino looks moderately effective.
12:05 AM. Still here. Talk has turned to if Ozzie denies Bobby Jenks food when he blows saves. "Strike him out and you get a pizza!"
12:56 AM. Brian Boland will be getting fitted for a Geoff Blum jersey this offseason. Thank you, Kenny Williams. Stupid aging Trixie bitchnew neighbor (who I actually liked until just now) comes over to bitch about noise.
I've been waiting since the Boston series to actually be home to watch a game and blog along, so here goes.
7:30 PM. Good crowd at the Ilk house. Astros replace their "Back To Back Wild Card" banner with a National League Champs banner. Back To Back Wild Cards isn't much to crow about in my book, it's like "hi, we're perpetual bridesmaids to the Cardinals!"
7:40 PM. Oswalt's first offering to Pods. High and outside. Oswalt's second offering, down the pipe heat. The Better Half says he goes 0 fer 4 tonight. Strike 3 called on a vicious hook with 18" of drop.
7:41 PM. Iguchi to the right side, base hit. Dog's already starting to whine even though he just peed 10 minutes ago. Dye with the buzzkill GIDP. 6-3.
7:53 PM. Killer Bees get to Garland even though Willy "I bat second for a National League team" Taveras can't drop a bunt. Groundout Garland does his job to get out of the inning, but the 'stros are up 1-0.
7:59 PM. DJ Selig in the hizzouse! Nice headphones. Oh yeah, leadoff double by Paulie.
8:07 PM. Opportunity squandered. Then another one squandered. Roy Oswalt lives up to every Southern stereotype possible. Kenny Chesney and NASCAR. Yee haw.
8:21 PM. 1-2-3 go the White Sox. On my 3rd beer and the grumbling's growing a little among the ranks. Maybe the Giordano's will settle the masses.
8:26 PM. IT'S NOT DODGEBALL, JUAN!
8:36 PM. I threw my hat across the room. Need more be said? If Garland's going to nibble and hang, he's going to get chewed up and hung. Oh yeah, and Oswalt's getting every call.
8:39 PM. What's a fastball, Scooter? A ball that goes slow? Oh, and what's plate patience, Paulie?
8:55 PM. The reverse Crede jinx works like a charm. The Better Half says "he fucking sucks." Marko says "he blows." Home run. 4-1 Astros.
9:14 PM. Wow. Wowza. Dye's jersey puckered...but hey--who cares! 5-4 Go-Go White Sox. Crede gets hit, and Scrap Iron's going nots. I smell bad blood brewing and it's about time. Everett up on the rail screaming.
9:29 PM. Efficiency, for at least one inning, thy name is Jon Garland. Ozzie says Garner got a "leel esited"in the last frame and has to protect his players.
9:40 PM. Juan Uribe > Derek Jeter. At least armwise.
10:16 PM. Two things you don't see very often--Steve Perry at a baseball game and Willie Harris on base. Gahhh. Iguchi's postseason struggles continue...well, for the most part.
10:33 PM. Ozzie has a signal for Dustin Hermanson that's the opposite of Bobby Jenks. Hermanson on, and my chewing-at-the-skin-around-the-nails habit I got rid of years ago is back in full force. Marko keeps dropping F bombs.
10:37 PM. Fuck a duck. I see cobwebs on Hermanson's right arm.
10:58 PM. Talk up here has turned to Lisa Dergan. Google image searches were executed. El Duque on the bump.
11:14 PM. Tension reliever (HEY, STRIKE THREE!)...we're inventing stories about the bratty little kid jumping up and down behind the screen. Theory is that he's a distressed product of divorce acting out his hatred toward Mommy.
11:32 PM. My, we're slappy. Now making up stories about Jason Lane and how he looks like one of those sad hobo clowns you see in paintings on little kids' walls. Meanwhile, Vizcaino looks moderately effective.
12:05 AM. Still here. Talk has turned to if Ozzie denies Bobby Jenks food when he blows saves. "Strike him out and you get a pizza!"
12:56 AM. Brian Boland will be getting fitted for a Geoff Blum jersey this offseason. Thank you, Kenny Williams. Stupid aging Trixie bitchnew neighbor (who I actually liked until just now) comes over to bitch about noise.
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