Like a young gunslinger, the Phillies came swaggering out west after some minor success against division rivals near their hometown. And, like a young gunslinger, they couldn’t help but gleefully boast about their newfound success, only to have the town’s outlaws blow them away with a sawed off shotgun and drag them around the city limits with a horse.
Series Recrap: Diamondbacks 17, Phillies 13
It’s not fun being a corpse in the desert.
Sand filling your crevices, vultures picking at your guts, kangaroo rats laughing at you. Arrogant fucking kangaroo rats. PICK AN ANIMAL TO BE. YOU CAN’T HAVE IT ALL, KANGAROO RATS.
This series has left us just that; a dead body, rolling from the torched red dust of Arizona into the breezy, tie-dyed confines of the Bay Area. The Phillies, at least, are not currently a club that has a lot of question marks, in the sense that we know what the problem is. Its just a matter of dealing with it.
It was not a matter of mere outscoring, but to be honest, with our lineup, if we aren’t scoring at least 8-10 runs a game, I spend the post game report face down in my toilet, vomiting with rage. And not just because of the sound of Ricky Bottalico’s “expert analysis.”
Kris Benson, whose name I can’t see without the phrase “slutty wife” appearing in neon lights, was not invincible against our offense. So, if it’s quiet bats, we make the logical head-swivel to the other side of the ball. Cole Hamels couldn’t eliminate the threat of his fastball becoming airborne in Game 1, and even the return of J.C. Romero, who also gave up a home run (compared to Cole’s three in one inning) was not enough. The Phillies just kept on bleeding.
Which brings us to Game 2, which was a victory, but don’t be fooled. Dbacks starter Ian Kennedy was punishing us, and if it weren’t for Jayson Werth’s home run and Jayson Werth’s awesome catch, I’d be telling you a different story right here. And it would be called “I am Quitting Baseball Blogging to Focus Solely on my Left 4 Dead Career, by TBOH.” So its not like you can translate this inbetweener into a showcase of dominance or anything. Though a win with Nelson Figueroa pitching out of the hurt-hole in the rotation was a gem in and of itself.
And lastly, we have the splendid little 8-6 loss yesterday. It is a matter of, and well know it, the relief pitching. This last heart-shattering loss was the work of David Herndon, and possibly umpire Dale Scott, who apparently didn’t call The Lost Dog’s sinker anything but a ball, and then thanks to barking from the Phillies dugout, gave Dbacks closer Chad Qualls a strike zone the size of a file cabinet (Yes, I just said the first thing I saw when I looked up).
I don’t know. I feel like anybody could have told you that the bullpen would be the weak link this year, and to take it even further, the starters with whom our strategy seemed to be “frantic prayer” are showing the expected cracks.
Deep breaths, and hope Doc can go all nine. Until then, just try to tone out the mocking giggles of the kangaroo rats.