Sunday night a little over a week ago I was in one of my top five eating, drinking and hanging out spots, the bar of Sammy’s Grill in Zachary, Louisiana, busily gettin’ down on a plate of catfish and crawfish.
On the hi-def screen in front of me the Tampa Bay Bucs were shoving the Seahawks around on Sunday Night Football. Over my shoulder the (Tampa Bay) Rays, mercifully shortened from the previous God-awful Devil Rays coined under former no fun allowed owner Vince Naimoli, were sewing up the ALCS with a final game whuppin’ of the Red Sox that would match them up in a series setup against the Phillies, which – as luck would have it – train just up the road in Clearwater