Last year, on this very date, I was waxing rhapsodic [or, more likely, rambling hoarse and hungover] about the Boston Red Sox’ hard-won designation as American League Champions. My mind was abuzz with the prospects of a fall classic at Fenway Park. Because on a cold, blustery, falling-leaves-gettin’-in-your-beer Saturday afternoon, there’s no greater feeling than knowing you’ll be watching the Red Sox in Game One of the World Series later that evening.
No Red Sox this year, but Clemens vs. Contreras on a Saturday night in the Windy City? That’s worth staying in for. And does it make me a bad person that I’d like to see Clemens and Pettitte get rings with a team other than the Yankees? Because I would.
