A few minutes before 9 on Sunday night, I gave myself a mental foreheard-pound. I had forgotten to watch ''The West Wing.''
It wasn't a big weekend for watching TV. There were chores -- I spent Saturday morning trimming a metal door so it would pass easily over a new carpet -- and obligations. The latter included completing a newsletter for a school group we work with, the running off 5,000 copies at the school on Sunday, then folding the copies. We're still folding.
I did squeeze in some TV here and there, both new (''Desperate Housewives'' while folding newsletters, the season premiere of ''Saturday Night Live'') and catch-up (recordings of ''Joey,'' the live ''Will & Grace,'' ''My Name Is Earl,'' ''CSI:NY''). And I saw some of the Indians' games. I would have liked to see more. But considering the outcome, I'll take what I got.
Still, it was clear how much the Indians had caught people's interest (especially on a weekend where neither the Browns nor the Buckeyes were playing). Some notes:
Friday night, I'm picking up my son after a school dance. Standing outside, I see a father picking up his sons. They're talking about how the Indians game is going. Indians conversations are all around, and I get drawn into one without even trying. I happen to be wearing an Indians jacket while waiting. A young man walks by me, stops, says, ''You want an update?'' and gives me the inning, score, outs and on-base situation.
Sunday morning, before church, I say hello to an acquaintance in the aisle behind me. We talk about the nice weather. Then we talk Indians (and some other sports) until it's close to time for the service.
On Sunday afternoon, as the Indians play, we're stuck in a room with copy machines and have not brought along a radio. There's a bingo game getting set up in another part of the school, and it has a TV set on. My wife goes to check what's happening with the Indians. The TV has a football game. The Indians are on cable; the TV isn't.
Finally, after some more copying, I have to know what's happening. I go out to my car, turn on the radio -- and hear Tom Hamilton call the last two outs of the game.
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