End of the line

A few days late and dollar short with the analysis of the World Series here at McClendon's Folly, but the truth is that I sort of lost interest after the drubbing St. Louis got in Game Two. Everything after the first game was, well, pretty dull. Manny Ramirez was one of the most boring MVPs in recent memory, too -- he hit for the highest average in the series (.429) but didn't do anything spectacular at the plate or on the field. Curt Schilling emerged as a hero after his airtight start, surgically-repaired ankle and all, but then he turned Judas and endorsed the wrong candidate.

From The Girlfriend: "The Wrigley Curse makes sense, because it involves a goat, and goats are evil. But Boston has a curse because they sold a player in 1918? That candy bar sucks, anyway." Sing it, sister. That's the main reason I'm glad that Boston pasted the Cards in the final three games of the series and finally put the skeletons of The Babe, Bill Buckner and the longest history of institutional racism in MLB behind itself. And that's about it. It's good for the Red Sox. It's good for baseball. It wasn't the Yankees.

The New York Times picked up on the whole root-against-the-Yankees vibe the following day with four solid pages of coverage on the final game of the Series. All stories and headlines basically pointed to the same conclusion: where was the drama? Extract the buffet lunch of sour grapes and humble pie and you can't argue with the writers' tack. The main story here was Boston's perfect 8-game win streak from the ALCS through the World Series and how the Yankees and Cards wilted under the spotlight.

Still, even the Cardinals-Houston NLCS run would've been more intriguing as a coda: high and lows, ebbs and flows, rookies and veterans, one swirling mix. The Cardinals just couldn't bring it against the Sox; St. Louis was the best team in baseball this season, but the Red Sox were the best team in baseball in October. In the advent of a 162-game season, that month makes all the difference.