I'm fairly certain that in, say, February, I'll look back at Game Five fondly. As absurdly fun as it was, it kind of felt like a lo-fi version of baseball, a teaser to get you to pay more for the full game I'd pony up.
UPDATE: Grant Brisbee at SBNation has written my favorite description of Game Five:
In the middle of all that, though, there was Game 5, which was a delirious mess that was more like a tanker truck tipping over and spilling a baseball-like substance all over the highway. The cars behind it couldn’t slow down in time, and they spun off a cliff and into the abyss. We clapped when the cars spun into the abyss, and we impatiently waited for more cars, which kept coming. I get chills thinking about it days later.
It was unrepentantly awful baseball, of course. Filled with hitters succeeding, sure, but also filled with pitchers failing. And umpires failing. And fielders. It was the world’s largest bag of Cheetos, and after inhaling thousands of them, we were left with a pleasant taste in our mouth, stained fingers, and rickets.