As we speak, the sports Gods are into heavy negotiations with regl'r God regarding the fate of yours truly. You see, Astros opening day falls on the second of April at 6:05 in the evening and that week, we of the Jewish begin eight days of Humutz-free life.
Uncle Joe's Seder starts at roughly sundown and ends around nine, a cover for the length of one three hour, nin inning baseball game. Oi vey! How Fortuna has forsaken my ass. I'll be sneezing horseradish and down under three cups of wine during the seventh inning stretch, thinking about how lucky I was that Sideshow's momma grabbed tickets to Opening Day only to be thwarted by the acetic hand of an asshole Pharoah, in this case known as Bud Selig.
So Koufax misses pitching a game in the series to atone. I'm losing out on Opening Day here! something I've never done before! I'm a guy who has a closet full of sports memorabilia that includes a 1958 Lookouts signed baseball (including Bobby Allison, Harmon Killebrew and Johnny Red Marion), a 1968 Rose Bowl ticket (where OJ Simpson destroyed IU), and 1980 Astros World Series tickets that never happened! Zulsta voxen be a chandelier zulsta changen brennen! I've gotten Hank Aaron, Barry Bonds, Bob Feller, Ernie Banks, Lou Boudreau!
I open the floor to commentary. The Jews don't really believe in eternal damnation. I'm not much of a man for metaphysical punishment. But just to be on the safe side, how much penalty is the first game of the season worth in soul here? We talking about thiry, forty, fifty lashings?