5 short years ago watching these dinks jump around hugging each other and grinning like morons, I'd have punched holes in my sheet rock, broken anything made of glass within a 3 mile radius and followed it up by punching myself in the cherries with an anvil.
Today? I'm actually pretty calm.
Amazing what two world championships plus the fact they spent the equivalent of the budget of Saudi Arabia over the past 9 years to win it. Truth be told? You spend $400 million dollars for 3 players? You'd better win or you look like the baseball version of Dan Snyder.
Look, they've got a good team. Yes, some of them took so many PED's they'll be dead before they are 50 and impotent before I finish this post, but they are what they are. They have the best closer of all time, a future Hall of Fame shortstop (who is more overrated than DeNiro at this point, but still a Hall of Famer), a guy who was cruising toward Cooperstown before admitting he was juiced up during his best years, and more guys with career years than you can shake a stick at.
But they did it. So I tip my cap, tell them all to bite my tweeter, and hope Theo is firmly ensconced in a top secret location trying to ensure this doesn't happen again next year. (Although the Jeremy Hermida acquisition earlier today isn't exactly making me tingle.)
Much to the chagrin of some, I'm not freaking out and curled up in the fetal position; it's baseball. Some years you win, some you don't. The team I love finished with the 3rd best record, made the playoffs, and just didn't get it done. There's always next year.
It really is amazing what winning it all does to one's perspective.
The Prayer of a Righteous Man
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