Game 6

Fear Game Six.

Fear it with all your heart.

It is the witching game, the moment when summer finally freezes.

It is Calton Fisk, Bill Buckner, and Dave Robertson dropping a Joe Jackson fly ball to give Chicago its last World Series in 1917.

It is the rally monkey. It is Joe Carter.

Fear Game Six.

It is two weeks before Halloween, and, perhaps even scarier, two weeks before President Bush might get reelected. (Or elected if you believe the Florida Supreme Court).

We all have such times. There are divorces, downsizing, and trips to the emergency room. There are the compromises, the arguments, the broken promises.

It is the twilight of our dreams, the time when we wake just before the alarm clock goes off but still remember our sleep.

Linger there. Huddle underneath those sheets. Fear Game Six, but know there is a chance, a fluke, a possibly of something a little larger. That sometimes even after our mistakes and mishaps that we catch a break out of nowhere. That sometimes you get a Game Seven.