Game Six

Post smogcheck celebratory ceramic day of the dead skulls filled with tequila are normal right?



Chase had been waiting for this day since he was born. Before we even turned on the tv The Rangers scored a run, which meant a shot for Newt Dawg.



Shot number two came faster than you can say "faggot fuck," which at some point became Chase's go to phrase.




Chase using his yell at the screen coaching technique to get "his boys" fired up. It's a miracle Josh's tv and dvd player survived the ordeal.



Much to Chase's delight, and his liver's displeasure, Texas seemed to be on quite the hitting streak. Shot number three may have come a little early.



As the sun gently tiptoed away Chase had a smoke on the balcony. This may have been the last time our young friend looked sane during the night.



Because right afterward it was back to taking shots.



A full hand worth of tequila shots.



I may in fact get the picture framed and mounted over my fireplace.



Chase enlisted the help of other people's fingers to help him count shots.



Things started looking pretty bleak for the Cardinals.



The wellbeing of Chase didn't seem to promising either.



But what is this? A miracle home run.



Pure Anguish.



Into the mouth of madness.



Ah but wait, shot number nine and a smiling Chase means that things began to turn around for the Rangers. And yes, I must have missed a few pictures of shot tequila drinking along the way.



However, a focused phone is never a good sign. Or is it a great sign?



Either way, there is always next year.

Ps. Chase I have a your favorite sweatshirt.