Red-Socked Prof: You know what makes this Game 7 different than any other Game 7, what lends it more drama? What brings me to the brink of tears in the midst of only beer 3? One starter on each team tonight has an incurable illness. Rocco Baldelli of the Rays has already chased down a fly ball, which must have cost him almost all of his energy, because he has a mitochondrial disorder which means he can't produce ATP at the same rate my fatass does, sitting on my bed. He's a Hector, to be sure, and I wish him well, though I know he and his whole tragic city of Tampa will fall before the night is done. But this hero above--that's Achilles, a.k.a. John Lester. This man has non-Hodgkins lymphoma, the incurable kind. He will not live long, and it breaks my heart to know that. And what has he done with his life so far? Won a World Series, pitched a no-hitter, clinched the ALDS, and generally made the rest of us look like clowns. Like foolish and immortal clowns.
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