The Series and the Supreme Court

From a Yankees fan perspective, don't read the Times or the Daily News or the Post or whatever, here's all you need to know about last night:

1) Sitting in the drizzle was miserable. Baseball really does need to stand up to the tail (network TV) that dictates when the dog plays.

2) When the drizzle stopped, it was like watching baseball in San Francisco on a cool night, OK, but hardly optimal.

3) For the Yankees the sooner the game is forgotten the better. The game echoed the old -- and maybe still current -- Supreme Court definition of pornography -- no redeeming social value.

Sometimes, Yes, It Really Is That Simple

Once on the great Six Feet Under, David, like all the Fisher family frequently did, was having a conversation with his dead father. They looked out a window of David's home at a rainy day and David was nattering on about his (very) real and (very) imagined tortures and Nathaniel Sr. said, more or less, "Hey, buddy boy, wake up, you're alive. I'm dead." And, as I remember the scene, probably wrongly, he faded away, leaving David alone at the window to say aloud, "Is it really that simple?"

Well, yes, sometimes, maybe rarely, it is. It's a crisp, colder than usual for mid-October day, DD's birthday, the sky is deep blue with many white clouds, the visibility seemed endless both north past the GW Bridge -- I could see the traffic glinting with sunlight and actually moving in the mid-morning -- and south to the tip of the island on the Hudson River bikeway, almost deserted and I rolled along, nothing on my mind at all except the cold but comfortable breeze bending past it, and an afternoon at the museum and birthday dinner at our favorite restaurant, River Cafe, still ahead. It also doesn't hurt that the Yankees are in the ALCS against the Angels starting Friday and we'll be there.