If you were standing in your living room, pacing like a caged bull being taunted by a gaggle of Main Line brats, as the Phillies loaded the bases and then casually sent Joe Blanton, a guy who has made a life out of giving up runs in late innings, to the plate, then congratulations! Your rage is finally able to be described as “accurate,” and not “a danger to yourself and others.”
It will probably not be until your rage bleeds onto the street of your city, fueled by the strangely flawed and endlessly inconsistent actions of your favorite baseball team, that the authorities will step in. When you break the head off a doll belonging to a little girl on the bus and drop it to the ground while whispering “Welcome to Philly, bitch,” just because her father is wearing a Yankees hat… that’s probably when they’ll come and get you.
Do little girls even play with dolls anymore? I’m out of touch.
Cardinals 5, Phillies 1
Okay, now it is impossible to win the series, so the “hope” center of my brain, which I should consult a scientist to see if it really exists or was just another fictional creation of my kindergarten teacher that no one told me was made up to make me feel better, is getting weaker and weaker.
Even when faced with the endless negativity of Twitter and the cold, hard reporting of blogs, one can walk away from their computer thinking, “Yeah, but… tonight will be different.”
This is no longer a healthy way to live. The important thing to do right now is look toward the future, toward a 2011 that will have seen Jayson Werth traded for more starting pitching, Dom Brown playing right field, and Kyle Kendrick boarded up in a crate and left in a warehouse, Raiders-style.
Big Joe Blanton can’t be blamed for this one, though yes, he was the one that gave up the runs. That’s… undeniable, like the fist-sized hole in my television. But the real issue here is why Charlie chose to leave Joe in… to bat… in the 7th, with the bases loaded, two outs, knowing that Joe is a guy who struggles when the innings get late.
Charlie manages from instinct, which is great. I’d rather have that than a guy who’s perusing studies and analysis and faxes from agents embedded al over the league. But I don’t know what instincts he was following last night. Roommates, family members, and cellmates across the Delaware Valley were simultaneously turning to each other and asking “So does he left Blanton hit?”
“NO!” I yelled, pretending someone had asked me. The score was 4-1; and we are a team so desperate for runs right now, so exasperated to just have more than one or two guys cross the plate on a given night, that in that situation, I would do anything to get those runs in. I would send Wilson Valdez wot the plate (there’s already two outs, he can’t GIDP). I’d put Chase Utley with a mustache out there. I would rent my womb to a rich , sterile couple in exchange for the capital to go out and hire a professional hitter in between batters.
And this was before I even remembered about Blanton’s inability to hold a lead later in games. No matter what his instinct, it didn’t make sense, and we chalk up another loss on this abysmal road trip.
But, hey. Maybe tonight will be different!