The End

It doesn't take a genius to see that this site has been on life support for more time that I care to mention: 40 posts in the past year - including 12 in the month of October and none since November 4th - is not the stuff of which blogging legends are made. Well, today I'm finally switching off the machine and declaring The Baseball Desert clinically dead.

I admit to having been holding on to see if the time and energy to blog re-surfaced at all, but I'm sad to say they haven't. Part of me is glad, because that means that the time I used to spend sat in front of a computer screen ranting about baseball is now being spent doing other things (including a job I love). The other part of me is saying goodbye with a lot of regret, because this project, which started out as just a way to avoid talking to random brick walls, has allowed me to make friends - both real and virtual - across the world, and to share some magical baseball moments that just would not have been the same otherwise. It might have begun life as a desert, but it allowed me to find a team, a community and a sense of belonging.

Thank you to all those readers - both loyal and casual - who have stopped by here over the past 5 1/2 years. I would like to hope that the random musings of some English guy occasionally amused, entertained and maybe even enlightened you. From my end, your interest and comments and occasional insults are what made all of this worthwhile.

I know from experience that this Internet thingy can be addictive, so I may be back at some point in the future, wearing a new suit, but in the meantime, take care, be safe and Go Sox!

Day of reckoning

Those who come here regularly will know - and those who don't can guess from the name - that this is primarily a baseball blog. I don't do any of life's really major subjects (religion, politics, ...). However, today I'm going to make an exception and do both in one very short post:

Dear America,

For the love of God, don't fuck this one up:

Thanks,
Iain

'Big Game' James

Apparently, ALCS games don't count as big.

(Don't Fear) The Reaper

So it appears there will indeed be more cowbell: Game 6, Saturday night at the Trop.

I almost gave up on this game, at around 3.30am, with the Rays up 5-0 and a huge 9am meeting looming large, but I'm glad I didn't, as I got to see nothing less than the second-biggest comeback in postseason history. That's why they play the games, folks - it ain't ever over until it's over...

I had my doubts yesterday - and even after last night's magic there's still a mountain to climb - but for today at least, I'm ten feet tall and bulletproof.

Pick your cliché

"Win or go home", "Backs to the wall", "One game at a time". They're all being said, and, as is often the case with clichés, they're all true.

The rational me really doesn't know whether this team has what it takes to climb out of the hole they've dug for themselves, but the optimistic anything's-possible-in-baseball me keeps remembering other seasons and other deep holes they climbed out of.

The Sox seem to be in the right frame of mind for the game. If the bats turn up and Daisuke does his thing, a flight back to Tampa for Game 6 could be on the cards.

"The least marketable skill in America"

If you need to stay loose before the game, may I suggest you check out Batting Stance Guy's 2008 Playoff Red Sox.

Genius.

(Hat tip: Fire Brand of the American League).

Rant (continued)

MEMO

To: TBS
Cc: Bud Selig
Re: ALCS

Dear TBS,

I know you think these images of kids asleep in the stands are cute, but ask yourselves this question: why are they asleep in the first place?

BECAUSE SOME TV BASEBALL MARKETING GENIUS DECIDED THAT THE BEST TIME TO START PLAYOFF GAMES IS AFTER 8PM ET! Way to go, morons...

On behalf of future generations of non-fans I'd like to say: "Thanks for nothing."

Iain

He said, he said

Rational Iain: You know, we had no business even being in the 11th inning. Josh Beckett - Commander Kick-Ass himself - gave up 8 earned runs in 4 1/3 innings. It's a miracle we even made it that far.

Tired, Grumpy, Been-Up-All-Night, Saw-This-Coming-A-Mile-Off Iain: Hey, go take your cheery, it's-October-baseball disposition and stick it where the sun don't shine.

RI: The Sox showed great character to claw their way back - they never gave up.

TGBUANSTCAMOI: Yeah, except when they sent Timlin in to pitch. Five stellar scoreless innings from the bullpen and the game ends walk, walk, intentional walk, sac fly.

RI: Well, he did get a couple of horrendous calls.

TGBUANSTCAMOI: He should never have been in there to even get those calls. I'd rather have seen Paul Byrd in there. Shit, I'd rather have seen Sean Casey in there.

RI: C'mon - you're being a little harsh on the guy.

TGBUANSTCAMOI: Harsh?! You think this is harsh? Wait 'til the coffee kicks in and I'll show you harsh. I go to bed at 10 to be up in time for the game. Thanks to our noisy neighbours, I get to sleep at about 11.30. Wake up at 2. Switch on the TV, only to find the cable channels are playing up and I've got a frozen image of a football game from earlier in the evening. Settle for watching the game on the laptop. Sit through five innings of dross from Beckett. Watch the Sox claw their way back into the game. Then, after 5+ hours of baseball, at around 7.15 on a Sunday morning, when any reasonable human being would be tucked up in bed dreaming of café au lait and warm brioche, what do I get? MIKE FREAKIN' TIMLIN, THREE BASE ON BALLS AND A WALK-OFF SAC FLY!

RI: Hmmm...I can kinda see your point.

TGBUANSTCAMOI: You'll see it even clearer if you don't piss off and leave me alone.

RI: So, you're not putting on your happy face for this gorgeous, Indian summer Sunday in Paris?

TGBUANSTCAMOI: Indian summer means sunshine. Sunshine means rays. So, erm, no.

RI: We'll get 'em tomorrow at Fenway.

TGBUANSTCAMOI: Stay well away from me if we don't...