Not much time to grumble about last night’s Yankee loss to the Red Sox except to say that David Wells pitched like the big game hunter that he was advertised as, that Jason Giambi throws like a little girl, and that Jorge Posada’s unclutch performance continues.

When the game was over I tried to flip to the Cleveland-Chicago matchup but got sidetracked watching the final half-inning of the Brewers’ successful attempt to clinch their first .500 record since 1992. I needed a smile after the Fenway debacle, and that was good enough; Andra (who’s from Milwaukee, where her parents and one brother still life) and I shared a high-five and a hug after Derrick Turnbow nailed down a 6-5 comeback win. That town deserves a good baseball team now that the Brewers has gotten out from under Bad Rug Bud’s thumb; as it happens, the new owner Mark Attanasio and I are alums of the same school, so all the more reason for me to root for them.

Anyway, Cleveland lost in 13 innings, setting them a game back in the Wild Card. They need to win both games to assure themselves of life beyond Sunday, and despite the potential for that adversely affecting the Yankees, I find myself pulling for them. Rooting for stories… Hey, if the Yankees can’t win a single game in Fenway this weekend, they simply don’t deserve to play in October.

If you’re going crazy trying to digest the various scenarios in which the Yankees, Red Sox, and Indians can become entagnled, Hank Waddles of Only Baseball Matters has a handy clip-and-save table outlining what happens.

One more worthy link to pass on is Bronx Banter’s Cliff Corcoran looking back at the other three weekends in baseball history in which the Yanks and Sox went down to the final weekend with first place on the line. 1904 is here, 1949 is here, and 1978 will bring the karma tomorrow.

Time to gas up the TiVo so as to better tell those assclowns at Fox to go fuck themselves. Seriously, the one thing I am hoping for this October — beyond any specific team besides the Red Sox winning, of course — is for lightning to strike Tim Mccarver and Joe Buck and send a bajillion volts through their bodies so that we’re all spared their insufferable yammering and prommotional whoring.. Have I made myself clear? Can I get an amen, brothers and sisters?