So the Cleveland Indians won the game, and the series. Congratulations Grandma, Aunt Paula and the rest of you Indians fans. You crushed the hopes and dreams of a four-month-old, not to mention most likely ended the tenure of Yankees manager Joe Torre (whom I now will never get to see manage in person). I hope you’re happy!
I guess from here on in, I’m an Indians fan, because I couldn’t stomach the Red Sox winning the World Series. But honestly, I don’t think I’ll even bother viewing anymore postseason baseball. If the Yankees aren’t playing, I really don’t have any interest in watching. (On the bright side, I’ll be spared anymore commercials that TBS keeps running for that awful-looking Frank TV latenight show. I can do mediocre celebrity impressions as well; where’s my TV show?)
Yes, the Indians were the better team in the series, but as you can tell by the above photo, I haven’t taken the Yankees loss very well. I’ve traded one bottle for another, and this one is almost as good as my usual formula! But then I made the mistake of downing the whole bottle, just like I do with my regular bottles, and…well…this is what happened:
So I might be out of commission for awhile. But before I started drinking, I had to good sense to tackle one final question from my Aunt Paula, which came in earlier today:
How about if we just split the last two remaining games and call it a day?
Come on, I might only be four months old but even I wouldn’t fall for that!
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go take this loss out on my parents for the next few days (hope they hadn’t planned on getting much sleep!). We’ll talk again later in the week after I’ve finally stopped crying.
