Doomsday prophets are always warning us that we won't know it's happening until it's actually right on top of us. In Athens, we forget about those scraggly minutemen who guard the street corners of large cities with signs that say, The apocalypse is nigh. I bet you could spot a fair number of those guys this week along West Addison Street in Chicago, and just as many along Yawkey Way in Boston.
Trouble is, they may be right.
At this writing, it's looking increasingly likely that the Chicago Cubs and the Boston Red Sox may win their respective pennants, which for each team would be an unprecedented event of earth-shattering magnitude. That it's happening to both teams¥¥ in ¥¥the same year has snapped many casual baseball fans - your Wednesday commentator included - back to attention.
The ills of today's professional baseball are well documented on the sports pages and deserve only a brief synopsis here: The season is too long, some say, meaning that by August the NFL has stolen headlines and ticket revenues; there are too many teams, too few of which can actually turn a profit; and the gap between rich and poor teams has yawned immeasurably.
I'm a walkaway baseball fan. I stopped paying attention this June, when my hometown favorite Cincinnati Reds self-destructed and all the good players were sent to better teams or sat out with injuries. Because I was so disenchanted with the sport, I didn't even pick any proxy teams to follow, which is my normal recourse. So when it emerged recently that the end of the season was nigh, and the contenders included perpetual losers the Cubbies and world-class choke artists the BoSox, well, I was right back in.
For readers unfamiliar with baseball, some background: The Chicago Cubs last won the National League pennant in 1945, and since then have been known for their singular ineptness as a team. The Red Sox, who last played a World Series in 1986, have in their oeuvre some of the most spectacular losses in the pantheon of sport - and bear a curse for selling a player called Babe Ruth to the Yankees in 1919. The teams comprise the doormats, if you will, of their respective leagues.
The Sox beat the Oakland Athletics, one of my most hated baseball nemeses (I despise their garish uniforms and that barn where they play) in a 4-3 nail-gnawer Monday night. That means tomorrow they will face their storied, immortal rivals the New York Yankees, who they last played in a championship in 1999. If they beat the Yankees, which is possible, they would go on to face either the Marlins or the Cubs. If they play the Cubs, we'll be through the looking glass: Up will be down, black will be white and Pedro Martinez will play at Wrigley Field for the first time with the Red Sox.
What does this all mean for the woman on the street? Well, very little. Baseball is a pleasant diversion in these trying days of international strife, domestic turmoil and the impending start of the NBA season.
Ewing has always wanted to be a baseball columnist. He's toying with the idea of a regular one during the season called High and Inside. Send him an e-mail with what you think at pe305401@ohiouedu.
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