Outside of a few exceptions over the last decade, this time of year has always been stress-free. Meaningless games that we watched more for the excitement of scouting the extended 40-man roster than anything else. But this year is different. Now it actually matters if Melky Mesa has a brain aneurism rounding third and misses the base.
I’m kind of a huge gay when it comes to the Fall. I’ll be honest because I’m comfortable enough with my sexuality unlike you closeted dick dockers who will inevitably bash this next sentence: I love all the apple picking and pumpkins and shit. Warm cider and cinnamon donuts are magical. Hayrides are for fat kids and Asians, but find me the guy who doesn’t like carving the occasional pumpkin and I’ll find you a heartless sociopath. And all you tough guys who think bringing a girl up to New Paltz in the Fall isn’t gonna close the deal have another thing coming. My point being that this shit is usually reserved for the weekends, and in the past, that was fine. Missing a 1:00 Saturday Yankee game didn’t matter- a playoff berth was usually clinched by kickoff of week 2 in the NFL. But this September (the time of year when it goes from 8 degrees in the morning to swamp ass by noon), every game counts. Not only is it exciting to watch the Yankees, but keeping tabs on the Orioles and other wild card contenders isn’t the worst thing in the world either. I guess what I’m really trying to say is does liking apple picking make me gay?
Vote 1 for “Yeah Strassa, ya guido dick loving douche.” OR 10 for “Nah, I can get down with cider.”