October 24, 2003
State of Shock
One of the nice things about having the Marlins in the playoffs is getting to read Dan Le Batard everyday:
What we're witnessing is so flabbergasting, so unbelievable, so cartoonishly fairy-tale that we're now approaching Bigfoot-wrestling-the-Loch- Ness-Monster-while-Elvis- does-the-play-by-play territory.
It isn't merely that the Florida Marlins are now only one victory away from being crowned baseball's champions and winning the World Series after Thursday's 6-4 victory over the deflated, dispirited New York Yankees.
(Re-read that sentence and feel free to find the most implausible October phrase in it. Marlins champions? Winning the World Series? Deflated, dispirited Yankees? That sentence alone is bizarre enough that I would have been strait-jacketed, institutionalized and immediately sent into rehab if I had written it a few months ago, back when Florida's manager was being fired and the deposed pitching coach was chasing the owner and general manager out of his apartment through curses at midnight.)
But that isn't the most jaw-dropping thing about this jaw-dropping season.
This is:
The Marlins have the Yankees, the most majestic champions in the history of American sports, in a complete, five-alarm panic.
You know, one thing I've noticed in the playoffs is that McKeon doesn't do anything wrong. I don't think he's great or innovative or dynamic, but apart from bunting early in the game, I haven't seen him do anything that makes me want to start writing screeds in my blog. With the players he has, his batting order makes sense. His bullpen use is fine. He has relievers ready when they are needed. He neither overworks nor underworks his starters. He's not the center of attention. He doesn't panic.