With the time-zone changes, the average playoff game begins anywhere from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. local time. The success of West Coast teams so far this playoff season only amplifies the difference. Games beginning at these absurd hours weed out the casual baseball spectators, leaving only the most gung-ho fiends sliding in to the pub just as moral society is calling it a night. The playoffs run until the morning of Oct. 31 locally if the World Series goes a full seven games. You may see what seems to be an inordinate amount of people made up like zombies for Halloween. But at least three-quarters of them will likely be thoroughgoing baseball fans who stuck it out until the last pitch.

As one who considers the image of a bewildered Bill Buckner looking back at the slow-rolling ball that trickled through his legs as one of the most traumatic memories of his childhood, I am no different. So nearly 20 years after that painful error, I find myself making one of my own — risking career and personal relationships by joining the denizens of the night to watch burly men play a boy's game.

If curiosity or boredom or a baseball Jones should draw you to the pub at the wee hours to join in the viewing, there are some things you will want to note.

When watching the game on the television with a crowd, seating is just as important as it would be if you were actually at the ballpark. While the pace of the sport does not lend itself to the hooliganism of, say, football, there are invariably types of fans from whom you should keep your distance.

Be wary of the rowdy horde of buffed-out frat boys in matching fitted sleeveless Astros T-shirts. You may end up wearing what you intended to drink. Best-case scenario: You will be annoyed for at least three hours.

Also, steer clear of the two quiet gentlemen with arms folded across their guts muttering to each other after every swing. You may end up listening to an endless soliloquy about why so-and-so should have executed a hit-and-run. If so-and-so executes a hit-and-run, they will ply you with reasons he should not have done so.

You are better off sticking with the group who came to forget about the present and bask in the memories of their own playing days. For every 10 words you hear, nine will be lies, but at least you will be entertained.

That's where I'll be — earnestly telling some whopper about how, years ago, I tricked a current Major League player into swinging at a pitch so good that he accidentally threw his bat over the left-field fence.