Ray Durham homers in the bottom of the first. And the Giants get another run in the bottom of the second. Tie ballgame. Right. What, did I think it was going to be easy?
This is what the Dodgers and Giants do. This ain't no one-sided, David-and-Goliath, Sox-and-Yanks sort of thing. This is Akroyd and Curtain going blow-for-blow. This is Beatrice and Benedict going, "I know you of old." This is real rivalry.
The two teams have finished 1-2 seven times. They've played dead even head-to-head in the last seven years.
It's like Capone and Ness. They Bobby Thomson us, we 12-1 them as a no-soup-for-you capper to their pretty (as in pretty meaningless) 103-win season in '93. That's just how it is. That's just how it's always been.
So when you sit in the stadium at one of these games, you're not soaking up the sun, you're not taking in the action, you're stewing, in a pool of dread, you're slogging, through a swamp of fear and loathing. Because you know, like you know the earth is round, that the other guy's just gonna keep coming for you.
To the Yankees, the Red Sox are an annoyance. To the Red Sox, the Yankees are the Boogeyman. In the Dodgers-Giants thing, it's not like that. Your enemy is real and dangerous and if you have hand, the only thing you can count on is that you're going to lose it.
So like I said, tie ballgame.
So, it's been awhile... First lines for each month this past year: January: Real cyclists don't wear underpants. February: It's been snowing…
Snagged from mme_hardy: Bold the ones you have and use at least once a year, italicize the ones you have and don't use, strike through…
The annual ritual... January — I spent New Year's Eve with friends, playing Apples to Apples and singing along (badly) while the kids…