Hurrah! Thank you, Carl Crawford.
And thank you, Mariano, for your record-breaking 4th save in an All-Star Game. Make no mistake: the world knows your name.
Full disclosure: I didn't catch the game last night, as I attended a free New York Philharmonic concert in the park. They were playing symphonies by Mozart and Beethoven, two dudes who have both been called "the Mariano Rivera of classical music." So if you were on the fence about my sports cred, you can now jump off on the side of the angry mobs.
To further cripple the situation, today's post will be like the stale crumbs you find in your pocket when you fancy the big eat. Tomorrow should be more fun, though; I'm undertaking an exhaustive investigation of the so-called "Seth Curry Saves Duke jinx." I'll go post by post and determine whether an appearance in this blog is greater parts curse or benediction.
Now, I have to prepare an e-mail to justify the impending banishment of styrofoam cups from my office. It may sound awful, but these little notes amuse me to no end. Taking a miniscule issue and transforming it into an extremely severe mandate is the chief pleasure afforded to me here in my little space. If you don't think I'll be using some stern, almost-militaristic language entirely unsuited for workplace discourse, reverse your ideas. Oh, trifling power! Welcome to my world of sad, private jokes.
Enough. All else is dragging of the feet, and I tarry no further. Make Wednesday your friend, then drive it someplace the authorities would never guess.