After watching the most exciting night of “regular season” baseball in my lifetime, and some great ESPN post-game analysis, I’m heading to bed.
As much as I would love to wake up tomorrow and get some great “morning after” perspective (i.e. Karl Ravech, Bobby Valentine, Scott Van Pelt, and - yeah, ok, maybe - Stuart Scott), I’m sure I’m going to be stuck having to mute your dumb ass.
Maybe you’re a good husband and/or father, I don’t really give a shit. But you are the worst, most annoying ESPN anchor, this side of Chris Berman. On any other morning when you’re on, I’d just flip the channel to the local news/weather, or the latest Saved By The Bell rerun.
But no, not tomorrow. I’m going to sit through your bullshit schtick, just for when the script switches to your tolerable co-anchor, so I can hopefully re-live some of the excitement of Wednesday night.
So thank you Neil Everett, for beating me down to nothing - even before I sit through a 70-minute commute to arrive at a soul-sucking cubicle job. Fuck you, Neil Everett.