I don’t like the idea of facing Mitch Kramer in Game 1, but by gosh, it’s the Damn Hell Crap World Freaking Series. I’m still too giddy and disbelieving to even begin to break down the rotations and the lineups in my shoddy, half-assed TFG way. Maybe by Monday I’ll be able to ponder it seriously.

Who am I kidding? I’m going to be in a state of long-tailed-cat-in-a-room-full-of-rocking-chairs High Nerbs until this thing is over.

The final out, by Eric Nadel:

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In a weird bit of synchronicity, Mini-Me showed up around the 7th or 8th inning — she has a seminar in town and is staying the weekend — so, I got to see the final few outs with someone who’s probably watched more Rangers baseball with me than anyone else.* I’m still somewhat disbelieving, despite waking up at 4am and checking the interwebs to make sure I didn’t dream it all. Nobody predicted this, certainly not at the beginning of the season. And how about that Colby Lewis performance? Just one year removed from playing for the Hiroshima Carp or Nippon Ham Fighters…that’s really not supposed to happen that way. You’re not supposed to come back and have an MVP-worthy season, and then win the MVP of the ALCS, after a titanic struggle with the dope. But dang if Josh Hamilton didn’t find the path he needed to do just that.

And lastly, Wash. What a crazy game this baseball is. In the 21st century, you’re not supposed to have guys like Wash running the team. He makes so many tactical errors, per the stat-heads, he’s just not supposed to pull these kinds of shenanigans using The Gut to make the calls. But, somehow, someway, it worked out, and I think we stats-focused nerds are seeing how bloody important it is to have someone who knows how to corral the egos in the fabled “room” with something that isn’t measurable out to five significant digits. Because I don’t think you get here without the language-mangling, chicken-dancing, Winston-smoking Ron Washington.

* My oldest pard Otis might possibly have more innings than Mini-Me. Jeez, we once took our moms to a game for Mother’s Day.

How weird is this? I get to sit here in my Barcalounger and hope that the PHI-SF NLCS goes to 7 games, and their bullpens get mangled in the process, and the winner shows up on metaphorical crutches. Go, Phils.

AWESOME GIF UPDATE: I forgot about this until, being baseball gay, I went back to re-read the chat last night. This was posted after Nellie’s boomstick:

THANKS FOR THE REMINDER UPDATE: “How fitting it was for Rodriguez, who made disparaging remarks about the Rangers being “me and 24 kids” when he was traded, to be struck out for the final out by one of those kids, Feliz, throwing 97 miles an hour.” I’d forgotten that quote from the lead jackass. Bonus, it’s in a very nice little article on the Colbra and his journey to dropping the claw on the Empire State last night.

You’ll probably be shocked to learn that a Democrat lawmaker’s DWI case was dismissed by a Democrat judge in a case being “prosecuted” by a Democrat DA’s office in an extremely Democrat county.

After all, why clog up the courts with a Very Important Democrat when there are probably hundreds of random-schmuck DWI cases which can be railroaded through the judge’s court to keep the revenues flowing for the county?

I’m sure these kinds of shenanigans go on everywhere, but this one happened to jump out at me this morning.

That wasn’t what I wanted or expected out of CJ Wilson. Nor was it an especially good day for Ranger hitters with runners in scoring position. They kind of beat up Yankee ace CC Sabbathia, but couldn’t tie it all together to produce a win.

Well…here, let Ron say it.

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Colby Lewis has already beaten the Yankees at home in Arlington, and Phil Hughes has already lost to the Rangers on the road in Arlington. Both of these things happened just a few short days ago, and in the same game. I have confidence we can repeat that, and therefore, I am cautiously optimistic. Could be confirmation bias, wanting to see Cliff Lee take the ball for game 1 of the WS, too.

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I don’t think you could script a game more diametrically opposed to the game played yesterday.

Except for that most beautiful part of figuratively curbing a bunch of sleek, brilliantined Yankees fans. That part, I’ll take every day of the year.

The bottom line is that these typical Yankee douchebag fans really didn’t figure into the game:

The post-interference Yankee douche:

These guys, they’re the reason I detest the Yankees, despite meeting many, many Yankee fans whom I don’t detest.

…but, as Winston Wolfe (kinda) put it, “Let’s not start soaping each other’s backs just yet.” Quite the dominant pitching performance, the likes of which have never been seen here in this dusty section of South Flyover. There’s nothing else to be said about Cliff Lee, really, but here’s Wash on his performance in Game 3:

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Tonight we get Tommy “Hamburger” Hunter going up against AJ Burnett, who a) Girardi says is still taking the ball at 7:07, and b) has been quite a bit less than what the Yankees thought they were getting. I still say Girardi puts CC Sabbathia on the mound tonight. There is allegiance and loyalty to your players, and then there is the brutal nut-cracker Yankees manager job & the wishes, hopes and dreams of every single national mediot + MLB.com/Beelzebud Selig.

I’ll say that whoever it is that runs out there in pinstripes, the Rangers don’t really care that much. Personally, as a fan, it wouldn’t bother me a bit to see Sabbathia jiggling around in his pinstriped flying-squirrel-suit. I have that much confidence in the high value of the uncluttered mind, and that seems to be precisely where my beloved stRangers are playing.

More Wash:

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PS Nothing pleases me more than the crickets that invaded the broadcast booth as that 6-run 9th-inning explosion was taking place. I want to finish this thing off in Game 5 with CJ so TBS doesn’t make one more nickel…they suck that bad.

That was about the worst thing I could imagine happening last night. Nothing to do but pull your socks up and go whip ‘em tonight.

FROM THE PEANUT GALLERY UPDATE: Baseball Time In Arlington is my go-to Ranger homer site this summer. Joey Matschulat types up a good post about the melt-down last night.

It seemed destined to become the eminent convention-shattering game in a season that has already defied so many of our expectations and beliefs, and, for seven innings, that’s exactly what it was. The Rangers were positioned to rid themselves of the never-won-a-home-playoff-game distinction, and were taking the iconoclastic hammer to the notion that post-season experience is of great significance; actually, nothing that transpired after the seventh inning suggested otherwise, as the biggest goat of the game on the pitching side (Darren Oliver) has a whopping six seasons’ worth of post-season experience underneath his belt. But I’m rambling now.

Smart kid, that Joey. I love the comments especially much, as it’s every point on the compass from “it’s over” to “we’ll get ‘em today”. Some of this I can agree with feel in the depths of my soul:
The most depressing 3 hours of sport I can ever remember watching.”
“More whiskey, bar keep. This is insomnia i have tonight.”
“I’m beginning to think that no matter what we do, the Yankees will always have that ace up the sleeve: the deal with the Devil!!!”
“They better win tomorrow or I will need to go check myself into the nervous hospital.”
“Just be glad you weren’t at the game guys. I hate this team sometimes.”
“The Texas Rangers are now, IMHO, at a “crossroads” moment in the future of this franchise … the last step in becoming a CHAMPION is at hand … and that last step is … Mental toughness”
“7. This is MLB. Why do you Rangers fans think this carries over to game 2? It doesn’t. Ranger can pull out a game today or even blow out the Yankees. Jeesh. It’s only one game. Other than in the fanbase there is no emotional carryover from last night to today’s game. None.”
“felt like a kick in the nuts.”
“Folks: I have no skin in this game. From from a standpoint of MLB history, losing the first game of a 7 game series? Meaningless. Don’t make me pull out the encyclopedia!”

The bottom line is that this is playoff baseball, this is territory which the Rangers and their fans have never entered. Nobody here on the ticket-buying side knows how this all works except from watching other teams do it, and trying to apply those lessons to this team and this series, and each is an utterly unique entity in the history of free-agency baseball (especially this year, or so it seems.) That might work, and it might not. Baseball is a funny game. It’s a punch in the balls when you least expect it, and it’s leaping, soaring joy when you least expect it. You gotta take the former to get the latter, that’s what I’ve learned.

So, more whiskey, barkeep. No need to rush…I’ve got a room reserved at the nervous hospital.

Go, Rangers!

…I’m jittery. I hope CJ keeps that cool Taoist head, and that Buddha guides his pitches right past the stinking hated Yankees for 27 Ks. Does Buddha do that kind of thing? I hope so.

I hope Josh Hamilton gets scorching hot, too. He deserves it, and we do too.

OK.

Over there, to the right — “Ron Washington Wisdom”

Compiled from many sources, but really only @tweetgrubes.

Just so you know what you’re missing by not living around here:

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This truly belongs in the Hayseed Files, Cold Black Heart wing — Boy watches in horror as gator eats pet turtle he gave Gulfarium:

A horrified 8-year-old boy watched as an alligator ate the pet turtle he’d just donated to a Panhandle aquarium.

Brenda Guthrie and her 8-year-old son Colton witnessed Tomalina’s death as the red-eared slider disappeared into the alligator’s jaws at the Gulfarium. When the two looked away from the sight, she said they could hear the crunching of the turtle’s shell.

“He was jumping up and down screaming,” Guthrie said of her son’s reaction. “He was shouting, ‘Oh no alligator, let it go.’ ”

[...]

Gulfarium officials said that the alligator, Gracie, had just been hand-fed and that the gators normally don’t express interest in the turtles.

One the one hand, I feel pretty sorry for that poor little kid, watching his beloved turtle succumb to the Laws of Nature by way of the Jaws of Gator.

On the other hand, I feel pretty sorry for giggling about “the crunching of the turtle’s shell.” I suspect the writer of this wonderful lifestyle story had a really good time typing those words out.

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That’s Eric Nadel paying appropriate homage last night to his long-time (& sorely-missed) broadcast partner, Mark Holtz. Absolutely classic, and absolutely classy. Thanks, Eric.

I’m still giddy, and likely will be for at least one more day. There’s plenty of time to break down the Hated Yankees…I’m going to enjoy this while I can.

I’m fixing to crack a bottle of Jim Beam and drink it all in like 5 minutes, top to bottom.

Cliff Lee for Governor.

Oh, man…so happy, not just for me, but my companeros, my mother who called the second that last out was down, my beloved Mini-Me who went to so many crappy years of Rangers baseball with me.

Wow, just wow.

…but I will. I have to. It’s what fans do.

Go, Rangers!

I hope Beelzebud Selig got a bad shrimp last night at MLB’s Yankees Coronation Party, and spends the entire day on the throne. No, wait – make that an undiagnosable, untreatable digestive tract bug, and the rest of October on the throne. A noon game is absolutely ridiculous in the post-season. This is the Major League Baseball playoffs, not a St. Patrick’s Day spring training game, and treating two division winners so shabbily is inexcusable. Neither team deserves a 16-hour turnaround. But nobody else cares, except maybe other Rays and Rangers fans, and what the hell have they ever done for Bud Selig and MLB? I almost hope for a big, long rain delay so Orsillo* and Martinez have to tap-dance and be exposed for the snoozers that they are, and so Bud gets to hear clickers across America tuning out of MLB and in to NFL.

Any-hoo, Big Ol’ Tommy Hunter takes the mound against another youngster, Wade Davis. Neither one is what you’d call an ace…they’re both definitely #4 starters. This game comes down to who gets lit up first, I reckon (watch them both pitch 7 innings of shut-out ball, now that I’ve said that.)

If it was me, I’d run Cliff Lee out there again to nail this down today. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’d do that. I can kind of see Wash’s point of saving him for a theoretical Game 5 or a theoretical Game 1 with the despised Yankees, but as I have patiently explained, those are theories at this point, not realities. I don’t know…I’m just a fat guy typing into the internet, not a manager in the bigs. One thing I do know is that I don’t want to go back to Tampa Bay to finish this out. They need to choke the Rays off right this minute. Or so I believe.

Two point five hours till first pitch. I think I’ll go get a big honking pizza from WallyWorld and have it ready at noon.

ANOTHER HOME LOSS UPDATE: Back to the dingy ex-hockey rink, Tropicana Field. My life force is borderline low. It seems like we just gave these two games away without any kind of a struggle, just “Here, take ‘em.”

My Facebook status: I’m a big, fat, enormous, jittery, distracted bundle of nerves right now. I need booze. Let’s Go, Rangers!

I have had two correct games of wishful thinking. Game 3 was originally wishfully thought to be a win for Colby Lewis. I’m sticking to that. Based on my unscientific review of the games I saw him pitch in, he probably should have had three or four more wins than what he ended up with. He’s a strike-out pitcher, and his WHIP is pretty stout, too. However, he is facing a 15-game winner who is the real #2 starter (not Big Mouth Game Shields.)

I think the late-afternoon start* plays a role, as well, as the sun will be coming in at odd angles, which generally helps hitters, but can also blind left & center fielders. Now, I don’t have any earthly idea how the sun looks at the Ballpark in October — the latest in the year I’ve ever seen the sun there is September

I’m calling for a 3-1 Rangers win. Let’s Go, Rangers!

* Thanks again, you Satan-blowing razor-cuts at MLB. One measly prime-time game would have been nice, as a token to the yokels. I REALLY hope it gets to be a TEX-CIN World Serious. You’ll be able to hear the whining and boo-hooing all over this land from the HQ, as the coastals drop out to go back to Dancing With The Stars or Bones or whatever other crap drains into their eye-holes.

UNNECESSARY LOSS UPDATE: I don’t think that game could have gone any worse if I had managed it. Too quick of a hook for The Cobra, too much of a leash for Oliver, and one out too early for Feliz. Oh, and Derek Holland looked like crap, so could we stuff him back into his cage for the rest of this? I like our chances tomorrow with Fat Boy Hunter…always did do so. It would be nice to have a regular night game like the rest of the goddamned baseball world gets to play, but I get it — we’re a bunch of goddamned hicks and we need to get out of the way for the fucking Yankees. Fuck you, Bud Selig, you pissant sonofabitch, and fuck the Yankees, too.