Sooooo, this week, Members, it will be the 111th time the Nats and the ALers go lid to lid for the moniker of Champion of that most cerebral of sports contests: World Series Baseball. But don’t let all that poker-faced scrutenizing of crotch-centered hand signals fool you. The game is as tawdry and as it is thinky. There is no way not to appreciate a sport that is so long that it designates a required fan stretch and yet has such snappy and debaucherous terminology as the “dead ball” era (preceding Mr. Babe Ruth), beanball (aiming for your head, buster), the Baltimore Chop (and rocket approach to batting), the Eepus (melodramatic junk pitch), and best of all a 200+ page book that outlines all the illegalities that have been ingeniously invented over the years (see: you can’t steal first, Mr. Schaefer). And sure, in terms of the zombie apocolypse, a presentation of dudes in collar-less uniforms of a completely unflattering cut playing a game that is “90% half mental” is worth less than half a push-up in 8th grade gym, but this week, Members, check out a little of America’s favorite past time. The full spectrum of strategy can be found there in its diamond-shaped circuits and its unrelenting commitment to spitting.