It was a weird feeling following this team so closely for the entire season without ever actually seeing them play until the postseason. I had read about this team’s unusual propensity to collapse. For four and a half games this team looked unstoppable. They practically ran a hitting clinic against CC Sabathia and Fausto Carmona in the first two games, and it wasn’t just Ortiz and Ramirez either – the whole lineup looked like they knew what they were doing. And then, all of a sudden, the lights went out, the door slammed shut, and the curtains came down. I’d never seen anything like that before – they just looked perfectly average, and it seemed perfectly impossible they could summon the heart to dig themselves out of a serious hole. So it was pretty amazing that the lights suddenly went right back on, and against a good Indians team they managed to pull it off.
Through the ups and downs I developed a routine. Setting my cellphone for 
3:57 a.m., having a Red Bull, setting up my balky computer as comfortably as I can. Throughout the matches I ate “Ot Martinka” brand sunflower seeds – I think I went through a pound of them in the postseason so far. Russian seeds, semechki, are different than the little salt balls they have in America. They are simply roasted, and have a very distinct and pleasant taste, though they are a bit smaller than the American ones. I’d have a Bochkarev beer at some point, and I diligently kept score because I didn’t have anyone to talk to.
I’ve learned that watching the games over the Internet is a little peculiar. MLB.com has worked pretty well, I have to say, though I had some minor technical problems on my end. The ads are more irritating than need be, though. From the 2003 postseason, I have burned in my memory Ron Silver shouting “His father is the District Attorney!” over and over again from the promos for Fox’s ill-fated drama “Skin.” But I prefer that to this year, and if you’ve had to watch online you know why. I have had shoved into my head various lines from the trailer for sports melodrama “The Final Season” – “They have a tradition here. It is about playing the game right,” Sean Astin emotes. “We grow ballplayers here like corn,” Powers Boothe insists. I will never see this movie but I can’t describe how much I hate it. And another thing… MLB.com kept promoting this documentary about Tony Gwynn’s induction to the Hall of Fame. The spot starts with the moment he actually got the call he was in. We see him sitting on his couch, he answers his cell, puts it on speaker, a voice introduces itself as the head of the Baseball Writer’s Association, and he gives him the good news. Gwynn starts blubbering, his family rushes over to congratulate him, and then he just hangs up! How rude! I hope he apologized later.
Anyhow, I’ll put up with it gladly for another series. I don’t want to write anything potentially jinxy about the World Series. All I’ll say is that it would be criminal if fans of the 14-year old Colorado Rockies got to see their team win the Series their first time there. I believe history is terrifically important in sports, and they need to build some. Plus, their uniforms are hideous, and they do that that tasteless 69 different jersey and pants combos to maximize their merchandise revenue. Not cool.
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