By Brad VanFossan


Baseball is a funny game.  Just when your team seems to look lackluster, disinterested, and flat out full of suck, suddenly your best power hitter finds himself up with the bases loaded in the bottom of the 9th while trailing by three runs.  A grand slam would win the game but that would be Magic Kingdom esque right?  Not something that would happen on a night where the Indians stranded more runners than nervous breakdowns Nancy Grace has had since the Casey Anthony verdict.  But we like storybook endings, especially in a championship starving city where all we can do is play out dreams of past playoff appearance's outcomes being different from their realities.  So yes, we could say what if he hits a home run to win this thing?  Well I'll be a son of bitch, it happened.  Travis Hafner delivered his 12th grand slam of his career at the fast approaching AARP (baseball) age of 34.  The WWE fan delivered the ultimate finishing move to the Toronto Blue Jays in what has been a season of 9th inning finishes that rivals that of 1995.


When I last checked in on this column, I was not too happy with the Tribe and my love hate relationship with them was more on the no Christmas card for you this year side.  But I will always claim reverse psychology and having my teams best interest at hand.  You know, tough love, always helping it will reverse their fortunes.  In all seriousness my angst for them at times is real, and I won't pat them on the bat for too long so that I don't throw a curve ball into this little run they're on.  So I will say this team played like crap for eight innings tonight, but luckily there are at least nine in every baseball game.  Back to my point.  Since I wrote last the Indians took 2 of 3 in Arizona, 2 of 3 in Cincinnati, 2 of 3 at home vs. the Yankees (except for the game I went to of course), and have won the first of four at home vs. Toronto.  You're welcome Indians, let me know who to send my address to for those free 2012 season tickets.


Also since I last checked in, I learned something about this great and sometimes wacked out country of ours.  You can't kill dogs (Michael Vick) or carry a gun without a permit in New York, even if you don't shoot yourself in the leg (Plaxico Burress).  Doing these things will land you up to two years in the clink.  But you can kill another human being and be set free.  This will never add up to me.  So while that is a depressing thought, at least sports can temporarily take us away from the realities of life in the real world.  And it looks like the carpet that turned into a magic carpet this past April and May might just have a few more miles on it.   Hopefully enough to carry into late October before needing a good steam cleaning.  It would be nice to hang a division championship banner on this carpet come that time of year, instead of it getting swept.