And so but Ian is again doing what he usually does, which, as previously noted, is Not Go To Sleep Or Even to Bed.
"What are you doing up there, Ian?"
"I hafta pee!"
Five minutes later ...
"What now ...?"
"I'm brushing my TEETH, Daddy! Do you WANT me to get cavities?!?"
(See, because I'm the unreasonable one here, questioning a ten-year-old who's still up at 10:00 at night.)
And so eventually, the Phils kinda start to rally in the 8th even though at this point the score's 9-2 and I yell up to Ian, "The Phils are gonna lose, but you might as well come down because they might make a game of it."
And so he does.
And I do this because I sometimes kinda feel Ian is a good luck charm when it comes to the Phillies because he's not jaded and still thinks they can do anything.
And they score 4 runs in the 8th to make it 9-6.
And I'm saying to Ian, "Well, they're gonna lose, but at least they're making a game of it, right?"
And he sez, "You don't know they're gonna lose!"
"Well, it's possible they'll win, but let's just say unlikely."
"But they could ..."
"Yeah, they could ..."
And then ... they do. Four more runs in the 9th, capped off by Ruiz's two-run-scoring walk-off double against Broxton, a guy who throws 100-mph fastballs, and he never got so much as out ONE against Teh Fightins in the 9th. Just incredible.
Phillies site3 of Chooch Ruiz and you may think he's running to second there or something but, actually, this is him after the winning run had already crossed the plate and he was trying, BIG-ASS smile on his face, to run away from his teammates, who came out to swarm him. And boy, did they ever swarm him.
What. A. Comeback.
And Ian sez, "Call Uncle P.! [Teh Heisenbro]" And so we do at 11:00 at night. We get Teh 'S-i-L and we're all collectively screaming at each other about the game and generally gabbing about OUR upcoming trip to the park — Ian's first ever.
Man, when Ian, his Aunt and I4 go to see Teh Fightins this Wednesday, I hope we get to see something even half this exciting!
I can't prove this, but something tells me Sunrunner may be running some kind of Ponzi scheme:
Call it a hunch.
Barefoot Neil proves, with this graphic
that I stole from his site, that lipid is just a polite word for fat! Now, as anybody who's read my blog for any length of time knows, my (relatively) high cholesterol was diagnosed by my eye doctor when he claimed during my eye exam to see "lipids" in my eyes — lipids being a sign of high cholesterol. What he was really saying was, "Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyaaaaahhh! Fatty-Fatty-Fat Eyes!1!" Which the above Kanadian Nutrition Facts label goes a long way toward proving, what with its overt admission that Lipides = FAT.
Thought you fucking Kanadians were supposed to be polite!
Second interesting fact: In French Kanada? Vitamin A = Vitamine A! Who coulda guessed?
The following is dedicated to Jonathan Broxton, because the man can throw hard and he's a kinda scarily good closer, but as Teh Fightins proved last night, sometimes The Harder They Come, The Harder They Fall:
[Caught Jimmy Cliff on The Colbert Report the other night and he did an excellent live version of this song. And this is an odd reggae song because it rejects the idea of the promised "pie up in the sky ... when I die" in favor of getting "my share of what's mine" ... "between the day you're born and when you die". Because a lot of reggae/Rastafarian music is other-world directed. But not this one.]
1 Ian prefers, in the summer, to sleep on a cot in our room, which we let him do because then we need to use only one air conditioner at night. We have one for his room, but I haven't even put it in this year. Every year I think, "This is the last year he's gonna wanna do that because he's gonna want to have nothing to do with us, his geezer parents, soon enough." And so I let him stay in our room. I really think this is the last year he'll want to1a.
1a [Added later, after morning run] Teh 'Bride is up and I just told her about The Phils' big win (as though she'd care) and she sez Ian wasn't bugging her, but that she thought I'd sent him to bed because he was bugging me. She told him, "Show daddy you can sit still and watch the game and not be jumping up in front of the TV — prove you can do that — and maybe he'll let you watch." But, in fact, I had only sent him to bed because it was late, waaay past his bedtime, and I was debating going up myself since I thought the Phils were destined to lose.
2 I know you don't care, Reader, but just FYI: He didn't. He went 0 for 5, which, for our
3 Which I took without the express, written — or even implied oral — consent of Major League Baseball because fuck Major League Baseball and their copyright rules re: accounts, descriptions and rebroadcasts of MLB games because this isn't about them and their lawyers. This is about Chooch. So sue me.
4 Inexplicably, Teh 'Bro didn't want to go to the game! "I can watch them at home," he sez.
Incidentally, Ian and I were thisclose to going with teh 'S-i-L to see The Phils v. The Indians on June 23. We didn't because the next day we had to get up early to go to Rocking Horse. And of course Teh 'S-i-L smartly stayed till the bottom of the 9th when Rollins won it with a two-run walk-off homer.