Setting the Borders

Games like this always remind me a little of Rome.

The beginning: bombastic and warlike. A conquering people establish dominance in short order, smashing down their enemies while building the beginnings of an empire. Their bullpen coach makes fun of a bobbled catch by a Spanish-language announcer. All is right in the Mediterranean.

It's when the empire builds what seems to be an insurmountable advantage and sets the borders that everything starts to go wrong. People forget that Rome was doing alright until it stopped conquering.

Oh, sure, it starts off small. A homerun by an overwhelmingly dimwitted, curly-haired left-fielder (and no, I'm not talking about Manny). A few legions lost to barbarians in the forest. A little bit of paunch in the eagle standard. Those seven runs, like the seven hills of Rome, are still impregnable. Right?

You lose another couple of legions, and your citizens stop innovating and start eating. Your closer is making jokes in the bullpen.

A few runs later, your closer has blown a save, and the barbarians are ransacking the Senate.

Hold on a minute, though, or at least another inning. The Empire never really fell, you see, it just kinda split in two. The Western half descended into barbarism, but the Byzantines, in Constantinople, lasted another thousand years. Their greatest emperor? Guy by the name of Justinian.

Our greatest savior? Johnny Damon.

With a little help from Bill Mueller and Mark Kotsay, of course.

OK, so the metaphor's a little mixed. But, hey, we're tied for first in the Wild Card race, and slowly gaining back what we lost to the Yankees.

Roma Victor, si?