Back to a tie, with the Rays' late-inning loss to the Twins--the team I've been looking at since May, scoring too many runs and giving up too few not to make a run at things.
A-Rod--between the inevitability and the steropids, both--reaching what is probably the most boring milestone in history.
Phil Hughes, in the actually exciting story of the night, sailing through Toronto for his 13th win.
Reminds me of Yaz's 3000th in Fenway vs. the Yankees--a dreary little moment following a terrible 0-for-12, a moment in a game strangely overshadowed but a sweet little instance. 1979, two teams going nowhere--the Orioles had run away with the East by early June, no Wild Card in those days--and Catfish Hunter, following up his 1978 Comeback Player of the Year/Winner, Final Game of World Series, was on his way to (as everyone knew) to winding down his career. Early in the game, thumped again on his way to 2-9 for the season, he had departed, and the Fenway fans, seeing this enemy of a half-decade depart for the last time, starting a clapping that grew to a crescendo, then a standing ovation, then finally a curtain call. This was something--in the words of Roger Angell, "A moment instead of a Moment."
Thought about that tonight.
Oh, and after a full week of the most favorable batting situations on the face of the earth, Lance Berkman is batting .133.