Numb? Is that the proper term? Is it "sudden-shock-numb"? Or "I'm-getting-used-to-the pain-numb-so-it-doesn't-hurt-like-it-used-to" numb? At some point in the next two months I'll have to sit down and put this sports year in some kind of context. But right now, all I can think of, without getting into the specific failures of the Indians in Game 7, a game that looked terrible until Jake Westbrook manned up and gave us all the chances he could have.
- Last Sunday at Macy's when I almost puked seeing those World Series T-Shirts on sale? I think I skipped breakfast, that must be why I didn't puke.
- The unexplainable failure for the Indians offense to really find a groove all season long showed its head all series long against the Red Sox. The Tribe had a few good innings, but even the two seven-run eruptions hid some mighty crappy hitting.
- After C.C. guaranteed that the Indians would win the division in mid August, and he and Fausto followed through to make it so, the one reason I thought the Indians could compete and maybe, just maybe, make it all the way, is because of our top two starters. Yet, again unexplanably, they manage to crap the bed like nothing anyone could have ever predicted.
- Travis Hafner. For the last couple years he was possibly the most dangerous hitter in the league, and certainly the most dangerous hitter nobody talked about. Yet this year something happened, especially in the ALCS. What the hell happened?
- Finally, I just hate Kevin Youkilis. He is a total jerk, I can just tell by looking at his big pale head.
Like Victor Martinez, with red eyes, I'll watch the Red Sox celebrate, once again with a team of ours on the losing end when it counts. Torture, indeed.