Sunday night sucked.
Five hours of excruciating at bats, pitching changes, and commercial breaks. We stayed up till one in the morning with our hearts pounding, only for Carlos Correa to finally put us out of our misery just before 1 a.m. With a golden chance to go up 2-0, we instead settled for a split in H-town.
That’s over now.
Today, we are back in the big apple. No more roof, no more train whistles, no more fans that look like they belong at a nascar race.
On the mound for Houston is the supposedly unbeatable Gerrit Cole. According to the analytics, Cole has struck out a thousand batters this year. He hasn’t lost in months. John Smoltz seems to believe that Cole is on the verge of curing cancer.
Cole has to toe the slab in the boogie down. He has to get through a relentless group of hitters that will undoubtedly make him work for every out. Despite the dud in Game 2, this is the still the best offense in the world.
Even with the gut wrenching feeling Sunday night, everything is front of us. We take care of business at home, we go to the World Series. This is the best homefield advantage in baseball. It’s not because we have a roof, or because we have an annoying train whistle. It’s because we have the greatest fans in the world.
See you at the parade.
