When I think about the baseball diamond that is the Oakland A's 2008 season to date, I reflect upon many facets. They are not all bright, and they are flawed, but among them some still shine. There is, for example, AN's own Brad Ziegler and his record-making start in the majors, along with the confidence I feel whenever he now takes the mound. There was, once, a three-game sweep of the loathsome Red Sox. On a sultry night in September I listened as the boys scored four runs without ever once putting the ball in play, as if demonstrating there and then, at last, that this was the plan all along. There was Gallagher's bizarre no-hit effort the other night, and even the meaningless fact that we just won a series against a vastly more talented, and vastly more expensive, team. And there was even last night's starting line-up, which not even Nostradamus at his best could have forseen last spring.
This 2008 season has been like every other season, unique, and precious, and I'll miss it sorely when it has gone.
Oh, and fuck the Angels.