I didn’t have the heart to comment on Friday night’s game after it happened. As much as I like seeing my favorite team play meaningful baseball in October, I don’t know how much longer I can take it. My only saving grace was that my son was sleeping in the next room during the final innings, forcing me to keep my comments about the Yankees and the umpires under my breath.
Quick note on that: lets put to rest this meme that the Twins have to play mistake-free baseball to beat the Yankees. The Twins made dozens of mistakes on Friday night, and were still in a situation where they could have won had one more break gone their way. The 2009 Yankees are a very good team, but they are far from invincible.
As I started to compose my thoughts Saturday morning, I was interrupted by my wife, who is 37 weeks pregnant and was having fairly regular contractions. She called the doctor, who basically told her that it was up to her whether she go in to the hospital or not. We decided to wait, make sure it was the real thing. About six hours later the contractions continued at regular intervals, and we were advised that it would probably be a good idea to check in to the hospital.
We put the plan into motion, getting the two-year-old (who was alternating between excitement that his baby brother might be coming and frustration that he had to miss a cousin’s birthday party) and the Schnauzer to Grandma and Grandpa’s house and checked in to the hospital at about 5:00 PM. We waited and waited, and nothing changed. At about 9:30 we checked out, baby still healthy and seemingly happy (except for his tendency to kick the heart monitor), contractions still pretty regular, and one very tired woman.
I thought that I might be watching the Game 3 from the hospital, hoping that I could share a Twins win with my youngest. Now I just have to figure out how to explain to a two-year-old that his baby brother wasn’t quite ready to come out yet, and we’ll do it all again sometime soon.