Being a baseball fan, no strike that, being a Cleveland Indian fan is not a good thing for the faint of heart. Tonight, as they have been doing now for about a month, they can't seem to buy a hit. The guys that should slam the ball aren't. Well tonight the same thing was happening. Oakland, a team that is not as good as the Indians, got ahead by a run and it might as well have been ten. Hafner the Indians big magilla was hitting major league fly balls right to the outfielder, so when Oakland got another run and were leading by two going into the bottom of the ninth, I lost all hope and switched to Law and Order rerun number 17000.

Before I jump into bed to read my customary two or three pages before the book falls out of my hands and I enter slumberland, I thought I would check my mail. You never know what might show up there. I did that, then the masochist in me decided to check the final score. You guessed it, the tribe came back in the bottom of the ninth and won the darn game after I had sat through eight and a half innings of ulcer causing non excitement. And then to boot, the leader in our division, the Detroit Tigers, lost. Oh the joy in mudville tonight. I think that ties us for the lead in the division. Tomorrow I'll be in front of the television at 7:05 hopefully to watch another Indian victory and hopefully to see the beloved (for the moment) tribe start to hit the ball like they can and will have to if they like being at or close to first place.

Speaking of big baseball hitters, I am reminded of Ted Williams and his son putting him in the deep freezer instead of burying him or even cremating him. What was he thinking?