The atmosphere of the game last night seemed appropriate. With the daylight fading into night and the wind swirling around the stadium carrying hot-dog wrappers and who knows what else, it was weird, wild, and ominous . . . A few observations: JOHNNY DAMON scares me. That guy LOOKS like hustle . . . I can’t root against TROT NIXON after his touching statement of faith after his game-winning homer against the A’s . . . JASON GIAMBI only has two problems as a hitter recently: 1) he chases high fastballs; 2) he can’t catch up to them . . . AARON BOONE’S lack of production isn’t even maddening anymore. It’s just sad . . . The turning point last night: when Yanks had second and third (were handed second and third) in the sixth with one out and couldn’t score. Well, it was the turning point besides the Red Sox rockets to centerfield, the wild pitches, the base-loaded walk, and the Trot Nixon home-run. . . . How cool is it that baseball’s ratings are doing so well? It’s a reflection, of course, of the big cities in the playoffs and how tight the games are. These games should have reminded everyone that baseball is the best sport for building tension and developing narrative . . . But there’s such a thing as too much tension: I don’t like Game 7’s. Game 7’s involving some other teams are fine—the Marlins-Cubs? great–but they are excruciating when they involve your own guys . . . My gut for tonight: a bad feeling.