![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4sW6jKF5YLW3aMBWny8qcNV3WCgeZFORtCzZPaeTAqDLeHmE7Tm7s2zTYl7OTlfiFpu5d6fGk3ywvhjSbBA-BmY9WEeuG0ffqnSgt0dCjHS6gy5f93f5sXu2NT_RucgEK7JZ/s200/188911387_ccf0f15398.jpg)
My dad pulls for the Red Sox in the playoffs and I return the favor with the Giants.
Last night my dad called me.
DAD: You guys looked good last night.
ME: I jumped off of the couch when Bay hit that homer.
DAD: He's good. You guys look good. You might win it again.
ME: I hope so, but the Angels are tough.
DAD: I hope you beat them. I don't like them, I don't know why.
ME: You don't know why? Maybe it had something to do with them beating the Giants in the 2002 World Series.
DAD: Maybe.
ME: Perhaps it had to do with a certain blown lead in game 6.
DAD: That might have something to do with it.
Wounds take a while to heal.
No comments:
Post a Comment