Some who read this won’t understand. I have this feeling that when I go on about my deep love of Cleveland Indians baseball, some just clock out and stare at my blankly until I say something that jolts them out of their temporary coma. I understand. That’s how I get when people start talking about celebrity gossip, the importance of predestination/free-will debates, and terrorism threat levels.

For those of you who have not tuned me out, you can probably guess how I am feeling after this weekend. No? Well, I kind of feel like I finally had the rich bully on the run, only to somehow get sucker punched in the stomach.

Game 5 was expected. Josh Beckett is like the rich bully’s best punch – maybe his right hook – that lands square in the jaw and knocks out the majority of opponents. You know it’s coming and you’ve prepared yourself to accept a hard knock, but you rationalize it in your head as being acceptable because you know the rest of the rich bully’s arsenal won’t hurt any worse.

Game 6 was a squandered opportunity that will be looked back on for years as the rich bully’s finest hour. After exhausting his best punch, he somehow managed to muster a follow up kidney punch that not only left the mouth bleeding, but will make sure the reminding sting sticks around for months. The bandwagon elitists who rally around the rich bully because he is one of their own now have the swagger and confidence back that was eerily missing after the first four games.

And then there it is… the final round and the last gasp of hope. The rich bully has invested about three times the amount of resources into preparing for this battle, and both sides know it. The curtain is drawing to a close on David and Goliath is already celebrating with wine and dance. The rich bully pulls out it’s most coveted punch yet – a technique with a price tag only two bullies could meet. It was like the second shot knocked me to the canvas, and now the bully was sharing $103 million dollar kicks to the stomach. It didn’t stop either. For 9 innings, there were kicks. Every time I managed to get to my knees, the rich bully caught a break. It just didn’t stop.

And then I woke up this morning… I woke up and realized I’m not battered and bruised at all. I’m not planning my evenings around the upcoming battles with the rich bully and I don’t seem to be as tense. Knowing that I lost sucks, but the thought that it’s over for now leaves me feeling refreshed and hopeful.

That being said, Lofton was safe at 2nd. Umpire gets the call right, who knows what might have happened?

Oh, and if someone wants to leave a disagreeing comment, save it. I’ll delete it.