If Memory Serves

This is a Road Trip weekend for the Connecticut contingent of the Kenny clan. We may not know where we're going bit we're making great time. Ask Patrick and Michelle about the evening Ferdinand Daddy-o departed Orange for points Norwich and marvelled at the Manhattan skyline and would possibly still be doing so if not forcefully told he was driving in the wrong direction. True to my Irish Rover heritage and don't get me started on GPS.

Anyway. I have every intention on being someplace where I can watch the World Series later today-not because I have a dog in the hunt. My team, the NY Yankees are free to shave a few strokes off their golf scores with all the extra rounds here in early autumn, but that's okay. Would I frighten you by if I told you how many days until pitchers and catchers report for spring training? And you thought the return to Capistrano was miraculous. Think Florida, pilgrim-now that's a miracle.

Our Dad would be up to his transistor radio in this Giants-Tigers Series even though Alvin Dark did nothing but break his heart his whole life. No, point in fact, as a fan of baseball the most American of sports, I want the World Series to go to extra innings for every remaining game and, as much I love the Giants having rooted for half of their pitching staff when they played at Dodd Stadium where I live, I believe seven games, at least, is a terrific idea.

Why? Because when the final out of the last game is made, there is no more baseball for the entire rest of 2012. What's the point of having the days on the calendar when you don't have to glance at it to calculate when your #2 starter is up or when the left-handed pitching rotation your team is heading into will mean the right-fielder is getting platooned.

I can play the games in my memory-but that's almost full, just like the count at some point today, I hope, in the bottom of a home inning that takes us to extra frames. Go somebody! 
-bill kenny