Scooter the corgi still has hair, as do I, but there is little liquor left in the house. Watching these games has drained me and my cabinet.

Just when you thought the games could not get any more tense, more exciting, more meaningful (after the train wreck of last year), the Yanks win 3 in a row and the blessed Red Sox win back 3 to be the first team in 100+ years of MLB history to recover from an 0-3 deficit.

A few observations:

It's been said by more than one sportswriter, but with blood stains showing through Schilling's sock, it was a scene straight from The Natural. "You ok, Roy?" "Let's play ball."

As if we don't have enough reasons to despise Alex Fraudriguez, the tomahawk chop on Arroyo's arm will do down as one of the cheapest shots, one of the most glaring examples of desperately poor sportsmanship in the history of the game. Low rent.

As one New England wag put it, rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for the house in blackjack.

Everyone keeps saying that Foulke is too exhausted to play in Game 7, that he cannot pitch or close today. That may be true, but if the Red Sox have a lead going into the eighth or ninth inning tonight, look for Pedro to be the closer. How about that for drama?

For good or ill, I have to teach tonight and cannot watch the game. By the time I get to my car, the game will probably be in the seventh, eighth, or ninth innings. Perhaps that's a good thing. I'll be spared the stress.

Go Sox.