Howling at the moon

It's November and that means... Baseball!!!

Fortunately it's a balmy 60 degrees F in New York City tonight so the players aren't exactly freezing but it's still probably pretty chilly in center field. A series between the Mets, a mutant splicing of the Dodgers and the Giants who both left the big apple for West Coast gold, and the preposterously named KC Royals/Kings/Chiefs/SunshineBand is hard to accept. Watching this World Series is painful - classic Mets choke.

My Bling Hurts

I'd like to go back in time 101 years ago when Baseball was fun, unpredictable and CRAZY. I'm talking about the 1914 Virginia Mountain League and the best that D League baseball had to offer including the wonderfully named Staunton Lunatics. This was a simpler time (perhaps a more honest time) in American history - it was certainly a more insensitive time because the Lunatics were named after the infamous insane asylum located in their home town. The VML only lasted one year, but it must have been a joy to watch those players in the warm sunlight, during the long summer days - you know, when baseball is supposed to be played.

Instead I'm watching an endless competition between two expansion teams as NYC midnight approaches on a chilly autumn night. The Lunatics are sane in comparison.

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