Division playoff series kick off today, and I thought I would post my totally-uneducated picks.

The Oakland-Minnesota series looks, to me, to be the best match-up, and should be very entertaining. It could honestly go either way. Dan will be pulling for the Twins, while Tom roots for his hometown A's, so IM chatter should be fun. I wouldn't be surprised by the Twins moving on, but I think we'll see Oakland playing for the American League championship.

The Padres' magic ride is going to come to a halt when the Cardinals crush them and move on.

Speaking of magic, the Yankees will likely use some to string out their series with Detroit, but I think the Tigers are going to continue to shock the league and advance to face the Athletics.

I think a Dodgers-Cards matchup in the National League championship would be great. Sorry, New Yorkers, no chance for a Subway Series the rest of the country wouldn't care about any way. LA just has to get past the Mets first, though it will probably take them six games to do so. From a purely nostalgic view, it would be nice to see the Dodgers in the World Series again.

We'll revisit these in a couple of weeks, when I'm sure I'll be totally wrong on all counts. Meanwhile, I'm enjoying what is quite possibly the best sports month: Major League Baseball, college football, and the beginning of NHL hockey!

Congratulations to Gary Matthews, Jr., who became only the third Texas Ranger to hit for the cycle, and the seventh American Leaguer to do so in order: single, double, triple, home run. The homer, which came in the top of the sixth, was a thing of beauty, sailing over the wall in left-center. The Rangers hit five home runs in the big park in Detroit, on their way to routing the Tigers, 11-3.

Couldn't resist.

In an IM conversation earlier this evening, a friend was telling me of a conversation he had had with an acquaintance. The acquaintance could not understand my friend's love of baseball, and I thought his answers were worth sharing:

It's the thinking man's sport, to me. It's the game within the game. Where a team sport can have one hero. Where great hitting teams can get crushed by great pitching. Where no-name guys with sub-par careers can make history by pitching a no-hitter, and the greats who pitch seven no-hitters.

The game of inches and 90 feet, strange-shaped ballparks with short porches and high walls.

Where fans root for the opposing hurler because he pitched a no-hitter against their favorite team.

Well, except in New York.

Where players come back out for a curtain call.

Batboys, batmen, batwomen.

Batgrannies.

Where a regular $40 baseball shoots up to $1 million just because some guy hit it for his 500th homer.

Where caps first got their bills bent, and a player can go from goat to hero in the span of an inning.

Where there is no clock and you play until the tie is broken, but the home team still has a chance to win.

Where the managers dress just like the players and aren't called coaches.

And umpires put on the armor, too.

Where fans are so much a part of the game, they can even affect a play, like robbing a flyout into a home run or turning a triple into a ground-rule double.

Where a guy's speed turns a triple into an inside the park home run. Where teamwork can create two outs on one pitch, and, on the rare occasion, a triple play.

Where sacrifices are also a statistic.

And it's the only American past time that another country made into their present time: besiboru ... Japanese baseball. Why do you love it?

It's an even better day when your team wins.

Last night I took in my second game of the season at the Ballpark in Arlington. (New readers should note I try not to dignify the Ballpark by its new, corporate name.) My good friend Francisco organized a gathering of friends and coworkers, but it ended up just being four of us, which included his coworkers Patrick and Russ. We had wanted to sit in the Home Run Porch out in right field, but was told by the nice lady at the ticket office that it was sold out, so we went to the upper deck behind home plate. The Home Run Porch never did fill up. Vicente Padilla had one of his best games for the Rangers that I've seen, going eight innings, allowing only four hits and a single run. He threw an impressive 79 strikes out of 111 pitches; it would be nice if games like this became the norm for Padilla, rather than the exception.

With the bases loaded in the seventh, Astros pitcher extraordinaire Roy Oswalt walked Brad Wilkerson, giving up the go-ahead run. The Rangers notched a third in the eighth inning and closer Akinori Otsuka did what he was brought from Japan to do.

I always have a good time at the Ballpark, no matter if the Rangers win or lose. Jumbo hot dogs (all-beef Hebrew National, of course; they answer to a higher authority) and peanuts, chilled Ozarka bottled water (brought in to the park, not purchased), and good camaraderie with pals makes for a great outing. We missed you, Brent, but given the circumstances, totally understandable. Hopefully we can all get together at the end of July.