The Dale Sveum era in Boston is over. In his honor, we present the high school year book photo above, sent to us by Baseballgirl. Drink up, Milwaukee Brewers. And may his windmill ways bring you joy.

Anyway. Last night, the Houston Astros defeat the St. Louis Cardinals to cement their place in the 2005 World Series.

Myself, I didn’t watch the game. I was watching Batman Begins.

If I might digress, I am, quite simply, queer for Batman. Have been ever since I was a wee lad tearing through dog-eared copies of Detective Comics and The Brave and the Bold. And, quite frankly, to this point, the Batman films have sucked mightily. While it’s easy to toss the piss frisbee at Joel Schumacher for driving the franchise straight to hell with the abysmal Batman Forever and the abhorrent Batman and Robin, I don’t really think the Tim Burton installments were much better. Of all four films, I think there was only one moment that truly, truly captured — at least in my mind — the character of Bruce Wayne/Batman. That moment comes in the first ten minutes of Batman Returns, after an embarassing opening sequence in which the “Circus of Crime” interrupts a tree-lighting ceremony in Gotham City. Commissioner Gordon give the cue to fire the bat-signal, and there we have it: Cut to a brooding Michael Keaton as Wayne, sitting in a chair in Wayne Manor in the dark. Not reading, not writing… just. sitting. there. And as the bat-signal fires up, it’s as if he’s woken from a deep slumber, rising up and staring out the tall glass windows as the signal reflects across the room. Bam. There it is. Everything after that: crap. For that matter, even Batman, despite Jack Nicholson as the Joker, is almost unwatchable now. Serious: Fire up the DVD and see for yourself.

Batman Begins makes everything right again. Paying attention to things like how Bruce Wayne, orphaned millionaire, became Batman. Where he got the suit, the skills, the freakin’ ginormous set of wheels. Genius touches like Gary Oldman as a young Jim Gordon. Michael Caine as Alfred. Cillian Murphy as The Scarecrow. Christ, they even dusted off Roy Batty himself, Mr. Rutger Hauer. And as I’m doubtless the last person in the world to see the film, I’ll stop my rant right here. Let’s just say it’s too much awesome and I almost wish I’d splurged for the Deluxe Edition, which includes a begind the scenes disc, comic book, and free lecture on nudity in the workplace by Morgan Freeman.

Oh, and I like the Astros in six.