It’s 11:36 PM on a chilly night in Dublin. (Ireland, not Georgia.) Your intrepid correspondent is in a somewhat dodgy hotel room directly upstairs from a bar where bad covers of “Sultans of Swing,” “Wonderwall,” and “Brown Eyed Girl” bounce off the double-decker buses and directly into the room where my bed tilts right to left about 5 degrees. Doesn’t sound like much tilt, but you’re constantly rolling back right to try and get to equilibrium.
Perfect night for a Braves game.
The Braves are 29-18, besting their original 1966 incarnation by 9 games at this point.