|The Golden Snowball race, indicating inches |
of snowfall this winter, as of Friday at 10 a.m.
They said the Golden Snowball was theirs, that the pennant had been clinched, and that it was time to plan their victory parade along the Canyon of Beef-on-Wick.
Not so fast, Buffalo.
There happens to be a city down the Thruway - 10 or so lost exits to the East - that's been waiting for the right moment to get good and plowed. Your early 12-inch advantage in snowfall accumulation just vanished as quickly as a 5-run Yankee lead with Preston Claiborne on the mound.
Syracuse has fumed since losing the Golden Snowball last winter, our first defeat in memory. Ever since, we've been counting the days to get hammered and chanting our collective mantra:
WE ARE EDWARD SNOWDEN!
Watch the skies, Buffalo... Hey, Mom and Dad, do you see what I see? That yellow thing up there... Is it the Golden Snowball? No... it's just the sun. Drat.
And we're not seeing it in Syracuse. Mwaahahahahahaha....