Fall arrives quickly in the Midwest, bringing with it hints of melancholy winter. I am not alone in dealing with a change of season cough, it being just warm enough during the day to convince one to be under-dressed for the chill of evening. The natives love the color change around here, but the dust and bugs stirred up by the harvest rob me of joy. It may be strange coming from a heat-loving desert rat like me, but I long for the first freeze of winter: it at least has the benefit of killing off all of the flies and gnats.
And so ends another season in wrath; my Dodgers played with all the inspiration of a dust-mop. They did manage to win 5 of 6 and close out Joe Torre’s career on a decent note. The ignominy of finishing below .500 (after two straight bites at the apple in the NLCS) is matched only by the team’s fool of an owner. I am soothed by the Browns (they beat the Bengals) and the Fighting Leathernecks (4-1 and nationally ranked). We won’t discuss the Reds of Liverpool…