A Series of Unfortunate Events

The interstellar universal series of the world beckons to turds everywhere. Get off thy couch and go to thy fridge for some snackables. Then return to thy couch and sit for eons as you get a fervent rump groove worked into your seating apparatus.

As much as this series is a let down to me in terms of who's playing, at least it presents the hope of being competitive. Aside from the fact that Jeter's merry minions could get another ring out of the deal (with A-Rod, Melky, Cano, Mark Tx, and Nick Swisher's grandparents all getting their first), what bums me out is that the outcome of the season was so probable. No big upsets or dark horses with skeleton knights riding on them (maybe the Twins), just two titans slowly walking towards their inevitable collision.

Reminds me of a monster truck rally I went to as a kid. In between Grave Digger blowin your mind and the demolition derby, they had this interlude with real live Transformers. Two cars about 100 feet apart took ten minutes to unfold and then one of em shot some sparks and a hole blew out of the other and the battle was over. Mondo lameness. Then the voice of the Transformer came over the intercom and told the children in attendance not to use drugs.

So yes, this world series is a lot like that, a conclusion to a season that seems like it wouldn't have ended any other way. That doesn't mean your biscuit can't have a little sizzle, we're talking about the potential to see Steinbrenner's stoolies crumble like some kind of ancient cheese.

The pitching matchup for game one is gonna look like this:



Cliff Lee is coming in at a sterling ferocious clip. Post-season ERA of 0.74 in 24 innings pitched, 0.69 WHIP. Sure, three games isn't a huge sample size for career post-season stats, but clearly this maricone's bowels do not turn to ice when October rolls around.

I wonder if him and Jimmy Rollins ever chat about this little nugget:



Anyhow, Lee vs:



Cliff Lee's former teammate and known diddler of underage girls, CreamedCorn Sabathia. 1.2 ERA this post-season, 0.9 WHIP. Marginally less marinated in sweet basting juices than Lee, but stellar. Big guns all around.

I predict the sensitization of erogenous zones, a reduction in life productivity, and sitting through hours of painfully crapulent commercials. The Diamond Conspiracies: We Deal Excitement. Is that slogan taken?