dirtbag trilogy

The wrong Sox won the World Series this year.  It is what it is.  While watching small snippets of the Series, I was consistently in awe of the great game's obscene randomness.  Boston has no business being the best team in baseball this year (Johnny Gomes?  Mike Carp?), but they are.  That's the game, and the risk that goes into loving it.

The more significant wonder for me is that John Farrell is now the gray-haired manager of the World Series Champions.  My incredulity does not stem from any particular love of John Farrell.  It's just that I own this baseball card:

 

The '88 Donruss -- one of the ugliest baseball cards ever made.  The "Rated Rookie" series -- the baseball kiss of death.  The '88 Donruss Rated Rookie cards, amongst my earliest and fondest memories because that was the year I started collecting.  I used to metaphorically shit my pants (or poop my pants as I'd say at the age of 8) every time I got one of this series in a pack (pretty much every time I opened a pack -- I was slow in pattern recognition and easily amazed).

Still confused?  Put it all together:  the rated rookies of my childhood are now old enough to be seasoned managers of World Series Champions.  That means I'm really bleeping old!

Wait 'til next year.