I bounced between the Spurs/Hornets game 7 and the Rays/A’s game last night. After the dreaded Spurs won, I switched off the TV and went to bed. Didn’t even check the Rays score. They’d been down 3-0, Shields looked shaky and I just really wasn’t up for any more bad news.
It was just a few minutes ago that I had time to check the Rays final and, of course, was stoked to see the team came back for a 7-6 win in 13 innings. If they had lost, I might have started to get that “uh oh” feeling, as in “uh oh, three consecutive losses, maybe the wheels are starting to come off, maybe that fabulous start was nothing more than that.”
I’m trying to become a Rays fan, I really am. Which is hard, because I’m not really a baseball fan. I’ll never be like my friend’s fathers when I was a kid; they’d sit their asses in lumpy easy chairs and watch every inning of every Mets game. I can’t even watch every inning of one game, but it is fun toggling back to the Rays telecast during the night and watching a few at-bats, maybe even a full inning or two.
I became a temporary hockey fan when the Lightning won the Stanley Cup a few years ago, and I’m hoping I can stay more than a temporary Rays fan.
