No apology necessary. Really.

Darvish in front of a TMZ camera---apologising for Game Seven, entirely his own idea. This shouldn't be a trend for sports "goats" . . . should it?

Darvish in front of a TMZ camera—apologising for Game Seven, entirely his own idea. This shouldn’t be a trend for sports “goats” . . . should it?

It’s bad enough that the goat business isn’t really going out of business in sports. Now the goat has to apologise on broadcast camera?

A TMZ reporter caught up with Yu Darvish this weekend. With camera. Asking Darvish how he was feeling, two or three days after the Astros made an inning-and-two-thirds pinata out of him for the second time in two World Series starts.

Darvish owns Game Seven, but he wasn’t the only Dodger culprit

The look on Darvish's face after Series MVP Springer took him over the fence said only too much . . .

The look on Darvish’s face after Series MVP Springer’s drive landed over the left center field fence said only too much . . .

Give Yu Darvish credit. He owned this one and didn’t flinch. He went out to start Game Seven of the World Series, got torn apart in an inning and two thirds, and felt even worse for letting down the team he appreciated for giving him another postseason shot in the first place.

Especially because his previous Series start, in Game Three, went the same way, only with one less run against him.

Springing to World Series rings

George Springer (right), celebrating after his two-run homer finished the Astros' scoring for Game Seven . . .

George Springer (right), celebrating after his two-run homer finished the Astros’ scoring for Game Seven . . .

When you’re a 56-year-old baseball team blasted inside out in grief for your hurricane-battered home city, and you feel there’s too little you can do to remove your city’s suffering, there’s really only one thing you can do. You can go out and play baseball and give your city a lift that can’t be paid for.

So we’ll see you for Game Seven . . .

Verlander, undone not by his own pitching but by lack of support while the Dodgers ground two runs out of him and performed escape acts on the field . . .

Verlander, undone not by his own pitching but by lack of support while the Dodgers ground two runs out of him and performed escape acts on the field . . .

The good news: This World Series gets to a Game Seven, after all, for the second straight season and the third in four seasons. Depending on your point of view, the bad news: As this Series has gone, Game Six was just a little too full of something resembling normalcy.

With this Series mostly playing like The Twilight Monty Elsewhere, there was just something wrong with getting a mere Mike & Molly Tuesday night. Game Six was pleasant. Amusing. Sometimes revealing. That about exhausts it.

Monty Python’s Flying Series

Alex Bregman (lower left), mobbed after walking it off . . .

Alex Bregman (lower left), mobbed after walking it off . . .

Forget any previous comparisons to The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits, and St. Elsewhere. This is Monty Python’s Flying Series. On Sunday night it was as though the Dodgers and Astros agreed before the first pitch, “And now, for something completely different . . . ” As if this World Series wasn’t, already.

This Game Five may not be the greatest World Series game ever played, but it was for damn sure the most entertaining. So much so that you might even find Astro fans who were sorry only that it had to end when young third baseman Alex Bregman walked it off with an RBI single in the bottom of the tenth.

For Ken Giles, Saturday night was the loneliest night of the week

Astros manager A.J. Hinch (left) gives his battered closer Ken Giles a hand upon lifting him after Cody Bellinger's tiebreaking double Saturday night. Catcher Brian McCann is behind them.

Astros manager A.J. Hinch (left) gives his battered closer Ken Giles a hand upon lifting him after Cody Bellinger’s tiebreaking double Saturday night. Catcher Brian McCann is behind them.

In 1944, Frank Sinatra recorded one of his classic contrast songs, a jaunty swinger with a melancholy lyric. “Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week/I sing the song that I sang for the memories I usually seek,” goes one couplet.

Astros closer Ken Giles might have held onto a couplet like that after Game Four of the World Series.

Game Three: In living colour on B-R-A-D

The following program was brought to you in living colour on B-R-A-D . . .

The following program was brought to you in living colour on B-R-A-D . . .

For pulling Rich Hill in the fourth in Game Two when Hill clearly lost his stuff, Dave Roberts got roasted because of what happened five innings later. For leaving Yu Darvish in Game Three to get jumped for four in the second on a night Darvish had no stuff to begin with, it wouldn’t be out of line to deep fry him.

Game Two: The nuts hunt the squirrels

Gonzalez runs out the bomb into which he turned Jansen's mistake. Game Two's insanity wasn't even close to finished, though . . .

Gonzalez runs out the bomb into which he turned Jansen’s mistake. Game Two’s insanity wasn’t even close to finished, though . . .

Was the second game of this World Series played in Dodger Stadium—or Bellevue? Were those baseball players we watched—or the inmates becoming the asylum?

World Series heroes past had nothing on Wednesday night’s, and no past Series goat ever got as much time to redeem himself as Wednesday’s, or proclaimed it with such becalmed near-defiance.

Bill Mazeroski, Carlton Fisk, Dave Henderson, Mookie Wilson, Tino Martinez and Derek Jeter, Scott Spiezio and Darin Erstad, Miguel Cabrera, Dave Roberts and David Ortiz, Lance Berkman and David Freese, David Ross and Rajai Davis? Who they?