The great rugged mountains have broomed the slithering snakes, just as they broomed the brotherly lovers (only 33% longer) and the Mexican clergy before them.
The king of the mountains was made to look like a genius Monday night. His gamble -- removing his man from the hill early, in favor of a stick -- sparked a touchdown drive, the only one of the match. The snakes managed a late field goal, but it was not enough.
Now the mountains must wait to see whether they will face the native Americans from Lake Erie or the gentlemen from New England who wear red stockings.
But that's ok. Mountains are good at waiting.
And Big Dan didn't think I understood baseball.