Edgar, seriously, dude, come on.

Actually, I wasn't totally pissed abou that, because I had this strange calm over me, like I knew we'd win anyway. But, still. My dad had been trying to tell me some of the good things Edgar's been doing. Like his baserunning and his singles and doubles. And then he goes and nearly blows the game.

It did make me prediction come true, though. Essentially. I said Tito would take out Clement in the ninth, he'd get a big ovation, and we'd watch, like, eight Orioles get on base in a row and win by one instead of three. Close. My other correct prediction was that Manny would be trying to take the ball the other way on his at bat where he untied the game, and he did. Nice job, Manny. And your dropped ball was a catch, despite what Remy said.

Bedard looks like Lilly, my dad noticed tonight.

Where was Drinkwater, aka Kapstein, aka J.K., aka Rowlings, tonight. Didn't show at any point. May be a first. Maybe he has Labor Day vaca plans.

From last night: Wasn't Green Day hilarious, with their gloves and uniforms on?

We're only four back of the White Sox for home field advantage through the World Series. So Monday's noon make-up game is actually kind of key.

[Note: Title of post refers to a kid from my neighborhood named Bedard who was taunted relentlessly for looking like a bird...by the Hungry Hungry Hippos kids.]