I busted out the sacred chili pot Friday night. I have to say, for the first time ever, I disappointed myself. I went with my chicken-white bean recipe which I perfected last year. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I got a rather bland concoction rather than the tangy, slightly spicy treat I expected. It’s most concerning and something I’m going to spend many hours rectifying. We’re hosting a get-together the day of the Kansas-Missouri and Indiana-Purdue games at which I’m supposed to produce both versions of my near-legendary chili. I’m feeling some pressure, in other words.
Sox up 2-0 despite committing four errors in each game. Ordinarily, I would say Cards fans would be seriously upset, but we all know the Cards can’t win on the road and don’t lose at home in the World Series. Why don’t we just make it 3-3 and fast-forward to game seven?
My two favorite people in the world right now: the old lady Chris Myers interviewed Sunday night during the game. 80ish, been going to games at Fenway for 40 years, keeping score, and breaking down pitching moves. She’s the stereotypical Sox fan. I also loved the guy who was at both games in his full Red Sox pimp outfit. I bet that guy gets wicked amounts of play from the ladies.
There are a few friends in KC who I’m worried about. This small band supports the professional sports franchises of St. Louis and attended the University of Missouri. I fear after the weekend’s games, they may be in danger. Please check on them and give them a pat on the back for me. They’re just games, my friends, they’re just games. (Please save this for March/April when I traditionally need a kick in the ass to put athletic events back in their proper perspective.)
Your Sunday night genius music lyric:
In a fast German car, I’m amazed that I survived
An airbag saved my life
An interstellar burst
I’m back to save the universe.