It was an obvious choice in the limited pantheon of “no-brainers,” so I spent last evening on the couch munching peanuts and watching a taut, exciting pitching duel from which the St. Louis Cardinals eventually emerged victorious on an unexpected 9th inning homer by the team’s light-hitting catcher.
From the Courier-Journal’s perspective, last evening’s city council meeting appears to have been the type of gathering that only the Potty Police could love.
When today’s Tribune appears on line, the newspaper’s city council coverage will be linked here.
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And now, a musical interlude.
With apologies to the Gershwins and Fred Astaire, here’s a lyric for fellow blogger Blogspastic:
Things have come to a pretty pass
Our romance is growing flat
For you like this and the other
While I go for this and that
Goodness knows what the end will be
Oh I don’t know where I’m at
It looks as if we two will never be one
Something must be done:
You say epithet and I say compliment
You say socialist and I say fascist
Epithet, compliment … socialist, fascist
Let’s call the whole thing off.
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Back to baseball. The World Series begins Saturday evening, with the Cardinals traveling to Detroit to face the Tigers, who are the game’s top story this year. Losers of 300 games the past three years, Detroit now will play for the championship with well-rested players and the home field advantage.
The last time the two teams met in the Series was 1968, and Detroit’s victory in seven games that year stands as my first Series memory, primarily because my father was a Tigers fan. Then as now, Louisville was a fervent National League town, and American League followers were regarded as curiosities at best. Dad’s contrarian loyalties in the realm of baseball certainly played a part in my becoming a supporter of the Oakland Athletics, who in suitably ironic fashion lost to the Tigers in this year’s ALCS.
He died five years ago, but I’ll be cheering for his team on Saturday night. Nothing against the Cards … but I just can’t go along with the stadium name.
