At the risk of sounding like a decrepit old geezer, playoff baseball games are on too freaking late. I can sort of understand why the scheduled start is 8pm on the East Coast; we wouldn’t want Californians missing out on games between Houston and St. Louis. But I do not think it is strictly necessary to waste 30 to 40 minutes on chitchat with Jeannie Zelasko such that the actual game commences at almost 9pm.
Last night I fell asleep in the bottom of the 7th, which was like 11pm. I’m glad I have a DVR, since I was able to get up this morning and watch Albert Pujols hammer one off the train tracks at Minute Maid Park, which made me all giddy and woozy.
That’s really all I had to say, except that Craig Biggio looks like a Little Leaguer in his batting helmet. He’s got the smallest head of any player. He’s like the anti-steroid.
