The greatest lineup in baseball history is lining up at the Northwest ticket counter at Detroit Metro.

They couldn't do much in the ALDS, but they sure know how to take a cab.

How about those ragtag Tigers? With their measly 95 wins, they have just taken three straight from the mighty Yankees and their intimidating 97 wins.

What an upset.

The dynasty is dead!

Oh wait...the dynasty's been dead since 2001. This is five straight Octobers, plus one handy November, in which we celebrate Elimination Day, a true national day of thanksgiving.

Celebrate good times...come on!

Doo-doo-doo-doo.
Doo-doo-doo-doo.

And on this, our potentially Holy Saturday, let us pray.

Oh great Baseball gods. You have delivered unto us the Amazin' gift of New York in October in which our team marches on to compete for Your greater glory while the other team whom Satan blighted upon our land in Nineteen Aught Three, comprised completely of overpriced demons, revolting whiners and ferret-faced sneering weasels, has been humiliated despite all expectations from the unknowing masses in distant precincts of our land. Oh great Baseball gods, we pledge to do our best to keep our eyes on Your most sacred Prize, which of course is the next game to be played, in a little while, for it is we who have a next game and it is they who do not. Oh great Baseball gods, we will do our best to not let You nor Your children down. We as Mets fans will turn our considerable energies away from rooting against that which is wicked and toward such that is good. We thank you, oh great Baseball gods, for the opportunity to represent New York with requisite humility for the remainder of this, Your greatest month, in a manner that is holy, sacred and utterly Amazin'.

Amen.