Sox Sweep

Knew it was coming. Knew it was coming. Knew . . .

Ah, what's the use? I used every excuse not to watch the game, all the way up to and including taking Astro-Girl's car to the gas station put air in a tire, then drive azll the way home, then out again.

Our newest car will tell you if a tire needs are. It won't tell you which tire, and since the equipment is so sensitive you'll never find out simply by kicking the vulcanized rubber. You need a tire gauge, which I took some time finding. Lovely use of a Sunday evening.

Come home, turn on Jeff Goldblum's debut on Law and Order: Criminal Intent.

Commercial.

Astro-Girl: "Don't you want to at least check out the score?" Turn on the small TV in the kitchen.

Commercial.

Left the TV on, set it to mute, walked back to the living room . . . then spent the rest of the evening peeking around the corner, like a kid on the lookout for a truant officer.

1-0 Yankees.

"Only a matter of time," I said.

1-1 Red Sox.

"Only a matter of time," I said.

Went away, came back. 4-1 Boston.

"Ballgame," I said, and turned off the TV.

After the Aaron Boone game in 2003, one of Bill Simmons's readers memorably wrote that rooting for the Yankees was like rooting for the house in blackjack. Long time ago.