Game Plus Seven

On weekdays, I get up at an hour of the morning that should probably be listed as cruel and inhumane under the terms of the Geneva Convention. So by the time the sixth extra inning commenced I was feeling pretty droopy. And when the Twins opened said extra inning with a double and then failed to so much as advance the runner to third, I yawned, swore a little, and went to bed.

So, naturally, they scored five runs in the next inning (the sixteenth) and won the game.

I'd like to feel happy about that, and part of me does, but mostly I'm just sleep-deprived and kind of annoyed. You couldn't go ahead and score five runs after that double, could you, boys? Ingrates.

Of course, now that I think about it, we've won the series. Against the Whine Sox. And we've got Santana pitching tonight. That just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

You know what would be fun? Winning tonight. In nine innings. And even (dare I dream?) by a bunch of runs. Like, ten. That would definitely make up for waiting until I passed out to score last night.

Yes it would.