October Twilight

First I should acknowledge my one baseball respondent who scoffed (rightfully) at my Astros-in-5 prediction for this year's World Series. Okay, that certainly was a bolux. But he might have at least, for courtesy, given a nod to my touting of Scotty Podsednik, whose homer won Game Two.

So far the White Sox have certainly been confounding my expectations, handling every pitcher the Astros could throw at them. The deluge on Roy Oswalt yesterday was astounding, almost as much so as the Astros' incompetence in clutch situations (Jason Lane notwithstanding). The failure in the bottom of the ninth inning, with Taveras and Ensberg striking out to strand the winning run at third, was probably the nail-in-the-coffin for Houston. I must admit to some minor satisfaction seeing El Duque perform well again in the Series.

Despite the unbalanced results of the first three games, however, aesthetically they have been enjoyable and dramatic. Usually by this time there is at least one boring blow-out, and yesterday's game seemed headed in that direction, but again thewildly inconsistent Joe Crede--he of the .225 batting average as a Bronx Cheer--awakened the Monster, or the ghost of Joe Jackson, or whatever seems to be providing Chicago's unaccountable muscle. I liked the idea of an extra inning game, but like many of this sort, it got to drag on so long that even my dog got impatient. Another unheralded sub--Geoff Blum--finally put it away, a la Aaron Boone, homering as the Houston Neanderthal-looking hurler Ezequial Astacio lost his concentration after a brilliant double play had cleared the bases.

Game two, with its dramatic grand slam by Konerko, the two-out game-tying single by Jose Vizcaino, and the clincher by Scott Podsednik, was a classic match, and the opener had its moments as well. Controversy has been basically limited to a few umpiring mistakes, especially a crucially missed non-tag that crippled an Astro rally in Game 1. The Sox seem to be benefitting by the imperfections of the arbiters, but at least last night the reverse was true--Jason Lane's fly off the center field wall was incorrectly ruled a homer. Unlike Chicago, Houston was not able to parlay their good fortune into an actual win. The other issue, about opening the roof to allow the pleasant October breeze into the stadium, with its resultant diminution of the decibel level, seemed pretty lame. How loud does the cheering have to be before the so-called "home-field advantage" kicks in?

The Astros are now in deep shit, historically speaking. No team has ever recovered from a 3-0 deficit in the World Series, and even if the Astros do rebound with two wins, they will still have to sweep the next two in Chicago. Clemens is ailing and Pettitte isn't too solid either; the staff anchor Oswalt has proved to be all-too-human. Up through yesterday I was still willing to predict an Astro victory, but that would be as silly, as say, assuming the Red Sox could overcome the Yankees edge in last year's ALCS.

But if it happens, that would make this the greatest World Series of all-time. And even so, the TV ratings will still suck eggs, and the seventh game would fall victim to some catfight between Edie and Susan on "Desperate Housewives."