I was a good lad after the final out. I wanted to throw things, but didn't. I wanted to put my fist through various objects in the house, but I didn't. It was 159 games worth of frustration begging to come out in a chair toss. They tell me I'm an adult these days, so I bottled it all up and paced. Then I thought I could write my frustrations out. I couldn't, and I finally passed out. I woke up with only the following notes, but they seemed to fit in their unedited form. I can't come up with anything more coherent with that game, this season. Please both excuse and accept the poor man's mash-up of Gammons and Bukowski.
Doing things that normal teams take for granted. Occasionally driving a runner in with less than two outs.
Could you hear the energy in the crowd after the eighth inning, Felipe? Kevin Correia dominated the Dodgers on t
Can we stop the fascination with veterans? Mark Sweeney looked at the last slider of the game as if it were 1892 and the slider had just been invented. "Veteran" is just a way to explain away the good at-bats, and something to be completely ignored after the bad at-bats. Let's get players that can play. Feliz is a veteran now, and he played the entire game like he was going to be late to a job interview. Maybe there were seniors waiting outside with paddles. The soul pole. Garbage.
Mike Stanton. Hard luck, but never needed to be there.
After I make fun of a player's flaws, the player is supposed to play against character and make me look stupid. Eliezer never read the wiki. Plays catcher like he's trying to make love to a piano.
Started playing okay. Three runs scored isn't very exciting at all, but it was good enough. Then there was a total collapse, which was followed by an almost-comeback. Then more flailing. Eventual humiliation. Season in microcosm. Already been written, but still....
Twenty-eight vodka-and-castor oils, then forgetting the toilet lid was down.