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The Eagles' embarrassing loss to Dallas wasn't worth the planned few hours watching on the HD set- by the time I could get away from the computer to see some of the game, the Cowboys were already blowing them out and I didn't get the feeling that the Igs were going to do in Dallas what they did to Kansas City in the second half.

But by then, the Astros-Braves game was lurching into the bizarro world. As the innings flew by, at least that was worth watching- Burke's homer came as a relief, and I can't say that I'm sorry the Braves are out once again (sorry, Larry). I've pretty much had enough of the annual Braves' 90 win regular season followed by playoff failure. I'm tired of thinking that the Phillies could have made a better showing than that in the playoffs, too, but the Phillies have the same problem as the Braves, only worse: as I wrote about the Phillies a few weeks ago, the Braves are afflicted with the disease of being happy to be there, the acceptance of the "Also Participated" ribbon. The Phillies seem to think that it's enough to hang in there in the pennant race until the last week of the season before failing; at least the Braves wait until the first round of the playoffs before picking up their little trophies and heading to the ice cream parlor with all the other Good Losers.

None of the remaining baseball teams gets me all that excited in a positive way. I still can't stand the Yankees, but whether the Angels do them in back in Anaheim or not isn't really my biggest concern- I watched tonight's game, and while I worked up a healthy disdain for the Yankee louts in the stands, the same front-running suburbanites that were there when I was a kid, I don't feel the same blind malice towards Bernie Williams or Derek Jeter or Robinson Cano that I did towards Stottlemyre and Bahnsen and Murcer, Reggie and Rivers and Catfish, Mattingly and Guidry and Righetti. I have more important things to hate these days, like the Lakers and the New York Football Giants. If the Yankees win, I won't be happy, but I won't be all that upset...

...Aah, who am I kidding? I'll be pissed off, just like when they won in other years. And if they lose, I'll still take a little bit of pleasure, just like in the early 70's when they really sucked and their pitchers were swapping wives. And I'll still think dark thoughts when I see some clueless geek walking around wearing a Yankee cap. Can't wipe that completely out of my consciousness. Sorry.

Maybe the White Sox will pull it off, or maybe Carpenter and Mulder are enough to push the Cardinals to the title. Good for all of them. Has basketball started yet?

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You tell me whether it's necessary for the winner of tonight's Angels-Yankees game to have to fly to Chicago immediately to play tomorrow in Chicago.

You tell me whether there's any justification for making two teams who played until late Sunday night in the Bronx, then flew directly to California, arriving at 4:30 am, then played a game at 5 pm in Anaheim to have to get back on a plane and play again the next day.

Why would anyone insist on this inhuman schedule?

Oh, right, it's Fox. Never mind.

I know what I feel like after flying cross country, even when it's not a red-eye. ANY athletic endeavor seems like a bad idea, but when I go for a run or hit the gym after a transcon flight, my performance is lacking. And Fox, to preserve its schedule after a rainout, is insisting on the criss-cross schedule.

At the moment, there's a chance that the network will relent and flip-flop the AL and NL series' starts. May common sense prevail. Lord knows I don't expect it.

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Well, yeah, they WERE tired. But they won anyway.

That'll teach me to pop off about the inhumane travel arrangements made at the behest of Fox.

Some offensive display, though, huh? It's like the bats were turned off after the fourth inning. "I live for this"? I sleep for this.

All right, gotta go. Too agitated to think straight at the moment. Bear with me.

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I'm getting tired of seeing stuff I want but don't absolutely need. Gadget lust gets aggravating when you realize you really can't be buying everything that seems cool, especially when there'll be something even cooler coming along in a month or two.

It's been worst with cell phones- I was on the every-Treo-upgrade kick until last year, when I went cold turkey refusing to buy the 650 because it just wasn't quite a big enough upgrade to justify the $600. expense. But if Sprint eventually offers the Windows Mobile 700 next year (after Verizon's exclusivity expires), I might have to go for it. (But I also have Razr Envy- I wish I didn't need a keyboard-equipped, Web-enabled, e-mail-fetching brick like the Treo, and I wish I could carry a thin, light, cool cell with a bright screen. I wish. But I can't)

And now comes the increasingly rapid iPod model procession. I finally broke down not too long ago and bought a 30 GB iPod Photo, and then came the Nano, which I don't need- it isn't even practical, since I'd fill up even the largest one immediately and I need the larger capacity- but I really want, and now comes this, the iPod Video.

I don't need it. It's full of drawbacks, like a tiny screen, heavy weight, and lousy battery life. I already have an iPod for audio, and the only time I'll need video is on Southwest Airlines, which doesn't have TV or movies and which I don't fly very often. But I want it. I want to carry TV show episodes in my pocket. I want the option of whipping an iPod out and firing up TV shows on it, even if the first shows being sold for it- "Lost" and "Desperate Housewives"- are shows I've watched never and rarely, respectively. I just want it.

But the 42" plasma HDTV comes first.

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Umpire blew it. Ball didn't hit the dirt. Ripoff.

(And as in every single one of these cases, the team that got ripped off still should have closed the deal and couldn't. I wonder whether Scoscia's return trips to the field to argue some more didn't throw Escobar off just enough to let Ozuna get that massive jump to steal second, and then to groove one to Crede, who nearly hit it out. Sometimes, knowing that you won't win the argument, maybe it's best to shut up, get back to the game, and get down to business.)

(But the Angels still got ripped off.)

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I fell asleep.

The Santa Ana winds were full-force yesterday, and they brought with them a thick layer of airborne crap from the desert, valleys, and basin. We don't normally have bad air- we live at the coast, blocked by a mountain from the brown layer hovering over L.A. and usually considerably cooler than inland. Yesterday was one of those days where the overll effect was like living in an unclean furnace, and it set my sinuses ablaze. The headache built through the afternoon, and at dinner I got queasy and faint. We made it back home, I got into bed, and I was out for the rest of the night.

So no blog, no answering phone calls, no answering e-mail, no work done, nothing. Sorry. I'm trying to get back on schedule now. You'll forgive me, right?

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A woman in an SUV driving in front of me sits at the stop sign and won't go. There's no cross traffic, but she won't go. I hit the horn, she looks up, moves a few inches forward, then stops and looks down. I can't see what she's doing, there's still no cross traffic, I horn her again, she inches up, then goes. I go, too, and pass her. She's chatting animatedly on the phone.

I go running on my regular daily route. On Saturdays, the trail is crowded with people wearing "TEAM in Training" shirts (for a leukemia fudraiser) and belts with little plastic bottles on them, the kind people who aren't really runners buy because the man at the store tells them they'll need to keep hydrated. As they pass, I say hello and smile, something I always do when running. Regular runners always return the greeting. Not so the TEAM runners. They nearly run me over and say nothing, making no indication that they are aware I exist. I chalk this up to them being intent and focused, except that I notice they happily greet each other as they pass in opposite directions. And when I passed one of the many refreshment stations they set up (Power Bars, sports drinks, energy gels), I noticed that the woman in charge of the stand was clapping encouragement to a couple in TEAM t-shirts, then turned, looked at me, stopped clapping, and scowled as I said hello.

We're at a local Japanese restaurant. As we eat, a woman with two teenaged sons walks in. One son is on his cell phone, and as the family is seated across from us, the son is conducting his conversation on the phone. And he's loud. Very loud. He's arranging to meet a friend later, and he's loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. When I look to see if the mother's doing anything about this, perhaps shushing the kid or telling him to take it outside, she's beaming, smiling with absolute pride at her precious moron child. He finishes the call, literally throws the phone at his brother, and stalks off to the bathroom. Mom kept smiling.

Are people ruder these days? I don't know if they're ruder, but they sure are rude.

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