Could there be a more loathsome matchup?
Further to this weekend’s 3-way, I feel compelled to address baseball again because I am so disgusted by this National League Championship Series. Dodgers? Phillies? Could you please give me a break?
Of course, the baseball season ended for me last weekend.
We were at the 1st Annual New London Americana Music Festival,
watched over by the lovely
women columns at the Hygienic Art Park.
I brought my, um, portable radio with me, and was listening to the Mets vs. Marlins game, the 162nd game of the season, which the Mets needed to win to force a playoff game against the Brewers (who were concurrently playing the Cubs) the next day.
The Park's artwork is operatic in its beauty, and quite a constast to a pedestrian ballgame.
Jennie and Paul – both Red Sox fans, but nice people anyway – joined me.
The bands were awesome. You can sit and watch, or you can pretend they’re background music for yakking . . .
. . . or listening to a ballgame. Dawn – another Red Sox fan – joined us for some Mets rooting. And Jennie, well, Jennie needed a lot of comforting.