I have a lot on my plate now that I'm head of the terrorist-stabbing board.

Kyle Kendrick Loses Pitcher's Duel Really, Really Quick

“Holy crap, Ryan Howard’s back,” I said to the guy next to me at the bar.

He looked at me like I had just put my hand on his thigh, nodded, confused at my obliviousness, and pinned a “Most Out of Touch Phillies Blogger” badge to my shirt.

I looked around.  Everyone was staring at me, positive I was joking.  The bartender toweled a glass sinisterly, giving me the stink eye.  Clearly, the news had been out in the open for some time, or at least a few minutes.  Whatever it was, it was enough time for everyone else to find out while I was pretending to peruse a beer list, and the bartender and I both pretended we didn’t know I was just going to order a pitcher of the cheapest swill on tap.

“Well… that’ll certainly help,” I muttered into my drink.

Nationals 8, Phillies 1

Last night, offensive letdowns hid behind the Strasburg excuse.  The kid’s a phenom, what do you want us to?  Sneak into the Nationals locker room and put a wooden stake in his chest while he’s giving a pre game interview?

There are not too many ways to defend against the beast, but that one is quick and effective and messy.  But the truth was, Strasburg left the mound after 5.1 innings, and there was still only one run on the score board.  What does that… mean?

It means the Nationals bullpen shut us the hell up, is what it means.  They didn’t allow a run, and after the trauma of watching their epic hero go down with a strained tendon in the fifth, that is clutch.

Meanwhile, the Phillies’ four hits was just not enough to combat Kyle Kendrick’s wildly inappropriate start.  I mean, it was just awful.  Just pure shit.  Every time I looked up there was a ball sailing, screaming or trickling onto the outfield grass.  The bar was in a panicked silence as the Phillies slowly bled to death and I tried to prove I was on top of things.

“My goodness, Kendrick needs to get some consistency,” I said loudly to no one.  “I should know, I write a Phillies blog.”

“Nobody cares,” the entire bar said, via an astounding silence.

So we all sat there and got pissed off, most notably me, as Kyle allowed nine hits, five runs, four walks, and loaded the bases like a thousand times.  He managed to leave the game after almost the same amount as Strasburg, but he didn’t even have “strained tendon” as an excuse, just “sucking,” a condition not yet recognized by the medical community.

Once more, the Braves got swatted down, and once more, we failed to capitalize on their failures.  It is a tragic thing, a division race; we stand on the verge of climbing another notch in the standings, fists clenched, teeth grinding, blood trickling from our eyes, while the mountainous collapse of another loss stings freshly.  And all we can do is hope Kyle Kendricks day is filled with enough minor inconveniences to drive him insane.

Like when your car from 1945 hits the milk truck on Main Street. I hate when that happens.

We need to talk.  TBOH is on Twitter.  Why haven’t you noticed.

Image courtesy of The Lotus Notebooks and Revenue Robot.

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Tags: 1945 Kyle Kendrick Sucks Nationals Phillies Ryan Howard Stabbing Strasburg Terrorists

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