Ohh, how glorious it was to watch the Royals win last night, especially after Tuesday's meltdown against the White Sox. It was a cold night in Iowa -- even colder in my chronically under-heated apartment -- yet as I sipped my port and thumbed Sister Carrie my mind fondly returned to the Metrodome, the site of our conquest.
(Now, its twelve hours later and I'm ready to climb across the table and punch the guy facing me in the nose. 1) He's wearing a "Hollister California" sweatshirt, trucker cap on backwards, beads and a diamond stud ear rings. 2) He's methodically eating pretzels one by one by one. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. This guy's 100% pleased with himself. Of course, I can't actually hit him because he's stronger than me, and I only hate him because I know he has a much better life than me. Ohh well, man is born to suffer.)
Thanks to the incredibly pointless two-game series we're playing, today's game is a getaway day game. The last time the Royals faced Boof Bonser (0-1, 6.53 ERA) they struck out 13 times in a 7-5 loss. I expect more of the same today, in what I predict will be one of those two-hour hackfest games with both teams playing in a daze.
In all, this would be a nice chance for the increasingly-mediocre Greinke (1-2, 4.82 ERA) to put together some nice innings, but perhaps Odie used up all of fate's providence last night.
But above all else, I'm just amazed with Eppenweb's Royals poetry. The latest diary is much more ambitious than mere haikus.