... or, "Crotchety Old Guy Who Needs His Sleep Speaks."
(And what he's saying is, "Dammit, I need my sleep.")
In other words, the Blob tried to watch Game 1 of the World Series last night, because it's the World Series and every true American should watch the World Series. This is true even if you have absolutely zero interest in the World Series, which this year I don't. Dodgers vs. Red Sox? Meh. It's just the rich getting richer. No storyline exists that's less compelling.
Alas, my sense of duty could not overcome the imperatives of being 63 years old. I made it through about four innings. But that time the game was already almost two-and-a-half hours old. It was crowding 11 o'clock, and half the game remained to be played.
And so, being 63 and in need of my sleep, and (to reiterate) having zero interest in such a pro forma Series, I went to bed.
This brings up the usual seasonal complaint: That baseball is losing the next generation of baseball fans because it insists on playing every game in prime time. And because the game has slowed to a crawl these days (in spite of MLB's attempts to speed it up), prime time regularly becomes skinny-hours-of-early-morning time before games wind up. Especially during the week, the next generation of fans is long in bed by then.
The Blob would like to point out that so is this generation of fans, in a lot of cases. And that is likely more damaging to baseball in the short term, because this generation is my generation, and my generation is pretty much baseball's chunkiest demographic now. It's increasingly a game enjoyed by seniors or all-but-seniors, and by very few others.
Now, I'm sure there are plenty of seniors and all-but-seniors heartier than I am, so maybe more of them stick it out than I suspect. But, still. The post-midnight crowd is not generally the AARP crowd.
Again, I could be wrong about that. But I don't think so. I also don't have a lot more to say about this.
It's time for my nap, you see.
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