Enough of this 3 o’clock roadblock – roadblock – roadblock. Hey, Mr. LaRussa, ain’t got no birth certificate on me yet. I’m waiting, but I ain’t got all day, all night, every day, every month, every year. So, them crazy…we gonna chase them crazy…we gonna chase them crazy redbirds out of the yown. See now? See this? Two hours, ten minutes. That’s how things are done round here. We always get to bed early, and nobody stays up late. Hey, Mr. LaRussa, I look down on you with scorn. Then I eat all of your corn.

But I must be hallucinating, watching Angels celebrating. The A’s have gone 12-5 this month, and have lost half a game in the standings. Tonight, Angels 9-4 down and win 10-9? Every year there’s some team, that somehow gets exactly what they need exactly when they need it. This must be a strange deception, by celestial intervention. The Angels have the magic. The Angels are going to the playoffs. Anythems thinking they can keep thems out of the playoffs, them crazy. For Oakland, it’s Wild Card or bust.

From end to end, the noise begins…in the human battle stations, the big ones coming in between July 23 and August 13. In those 22 days, the A’s play the Angels 7 times, the Tigers 7 times, and the Mariners 4 times. Rip through those three weeks, and you make the playoffs. Play .500 or less, forget it. Meanwhile, work, work, work, work, work ’til holes are filled. A Mets-Indians-Yankees road trip. Schedulemakers, them crazy. Sinatra didn’t sing “I want to be a part of it–New York, Cleveland, New York!” Yankees have some wild card dreams of their own. They’re hot hot hot! Hopefully, before the A’s hit town, they will sit at the table too and drink cool water. And their lungs will fill with rain, and the water rushes in.