Peanuts and Cracker Jack Sold Separately

Don't look now, the Milwaukee Brewers and Tampa Bay (Devil) Rays are battling in the World Series. The two teams with the best records in their leagues, respectively, ended up facing each other. What's not to like?  

I'm reading a lot of criticism about how bad the TV ratings will prove to be for two 'small market teams,' when we should be celebrating both organizations for building teams that went the distance. In light of how many (and often) clubs hired mercenaries, sorry, free agents (who were anything but) and still came up short, in the case of my Yankees, waaay short, perhaps a moment of silence should be observed. 

As Seinfeld noted years ago, all professional sports fans are really cheering for are the clothes, as the contents of the uniforms change zip codes every off season, and sometimes during it, leaving all of us who cheer as the sole constants in our own universe.

Back in the day I used to frequent a joint where, at the far end near the 19" TV on the arm over the bar, were folks who wagered on every pitch and on what happened after every pitch. Most nights they had no idea what the score was-their game inside the game had nothing to do with The Game. 

Was it illegal? I guess maybe not on an afternoon when the beat cop picked up $20 on a double play ball, but still. Now, of course, almost anything goes in terms of wagering, and the games have truly become afterthoughts.

I'm told baseball is not a 21st-century American sport. On the other hand, neither am I. A whole lot of shit has gone south around here in recent decades, and I'm not sure what's in this bag, but I'm the one holding it, and I'm not happy about it. 

Of course feelings of any kind went out with high button shoes and hoop skirts here in Air Age America, home of the WTF? and OMG! text messages and every type of statistic and metric imaginable. 

I still remember the guy a row down to my left the afternoon my son took me to Yankees Stadium, who spent the whole frickin' game texting on his Crackbery. Seriously. You paid how much for these seats? You cannot fix stupid-but you can whack it a few times to loosen it up.

So find the time to check out the Boys of Summer's Last Hurrah of 2026. They may not be any boys I know, but they're all the guys we got. I've already put my mitt, double wrapped with rubber bands and a baseball in the pocket, under the back mousetrap of the bike, trying to get a head start on Spring training. Mandatory report date for spring training is Friday, 19 February 2027, but who's counting, aside from me?

-bill kenny