Better check the thermostat in hell. Consider this baseball’s version of Haley’s Comet colliding with a white whale. The Texas Rangers are playing the San Francisco Giants in the World Series?!? I haven’t been this confused since I first listened to a song by America (if anyone knows what “Ventura Highway” or “Sister Golden Hair” is about, lob me a call).
Unless you’re Rip Van Winkle (in which case just hit the snooze and wait another 20 years for the Dodgers to reach the Fall Classic), you’re probably well aware that our nation’s pastime is in the hands of these two Major League misfits. San Francisco hasn’t won a title since Godzilla first terrorized the streets of Tokyo. Even Mothra has had a better success rate. Texas has reached the goal of World Series bliss about as many times as I have split the atom while standing on one leg (not as easy as it sounds).
By the time someone from “Glee” sings the national anthem, and Ken Oberkfell throws out the first pitch prior to Game 1, the story lines will be more worn out than a show featuring one of the Osbournes or a midnight commercial starring the Hulkster. It’s Texas and San Francisco… Whataburger versus Levi’s. Cowboy boots and loafers. Oil tycoons and dot-com millionaires. The Bushes against Nancy Pelosi. Walker Texas Ranger karate-chopping Harry Callahan. J.R. and Nash Bridges. Top sirloin and tempeh tofu. Bounty hunters and hippies. ZZ Top and CCR. The Big D and the city once known as “Baghdad by the Bay” (I think they’ve shied away from that recently). Remember the Alamo? Are you going to San Francisco? Six Flags and the Golden Gate Bridge…
Yep. This matchup has all the intrigue of a Pauley Shore flick. The only difference is, is that at least you know the carnage of Biodome will come to an end at some point after the Mike-and-Ike fueled stupor wears off. Texas and San Francisco brings to mind that scene from “Casino” where Nicky Santoro has the poor schlub’s head in a vise, just a little more painful though. Parity is all well and good until you’re left with sports’ version of the Apocalypse. People can only pray for an interruption by “Heidi” (or whatever the modern-day equivalent is- “The Real Housewives of Paducah”?). Until then, Bud Selig and company bring you a best of 7 jambaroo to see who can tolerate the feeling of wood under finger nails longer. Appropriately enough, the Associated Press capsule preview “accidentally” printed the words “Watch for” followed by a blank…
Perhaps you can call it the Bengie Molina bowl (insert fat joke here, if you must). He’ll be celebrated either way. He wound up on the curb in Edgar Allen Poe fashion, and surprise, surprise he made it to the World Series anyway. This must be agony for Gaylord Perry, Will Clark, and John Burkett. Who do you cheer for? Ah, who am I kidding? Come Wednesday, they’ll probably be watching paint dry. You can probably bet that Steve Buechele might be stocking up on oversized oil drums of mayonnaise from the local Stop ‘N Shop when Game 1 begins, and Kirt Manwaring will probably be out shopping for new shoelaces as soon as a Lee makes the most important contribution to Texas since the Civil War (ahem).
You will be regaled with various pieces of dreadful minutiae: did you know these two teams played in the first ever Interleague game? Now you do! Of how the Rangers were auctioned off in the same fashion as Bob Hope’s nose hair trimmer fought through the adversity of the AL Worst to beat the vaunted Yankees (assault on old people is a crime that should not be commended). And don’t forget about the Giants: there’s Tim Lincecum who lights up the scoreboard during the game andm then, after… well, he just lights up (ALLEGEDLY!). The most valuable player, Cody Ross, was dumped so many times, I’m beginning to feel better about my prospects (though I’m sure he gets to third base a lot faster).
Whoever said that everything is bigger in Texas may want to rephrase after checking out the ratings. I think there’s a Peyton Manning-inspired episode of “Heehaw” that may draw more attention. Seasonal Affective Disorder may come early this season for legions of baseball fans while Texas and San Francisco meet to decide a baseball champion. It sounds less and less like a World Series and more like a bad connecting flight. And what about residents of Los Angeles and its neighboring Los Angeles of Anaheim who must agonize while their hated rivals square off in the Series? Well, there’s always hope that Enrico Pallazo is behind home plate for Game 1.
Danny Lee has been involved in sports media for over seven years … While at UCLA, he turned his grade school doodles into a position with the Daily Bruin, and continues his diatribes to this day.
