As things worsen in Buffalo, I'm having trouble believing we can win again in The Queen City. I want to believe we can contend this season. I want to believe that if things fall into place perfectly, if our goal tending holds up and we're healthy, if the stars align exactly right, we can have that parade. I want to believe, as Crash Davis does in "Bull Durham".
Well, I believe in the soul. The cock. The pussy. The small of a woman's back. The hanging curveball. High fiber. Good scotch. That the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a Constitution Amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve. And I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days...Goodnight.
Oh, my...
