Competent Phillies Ruin So Many Jokes About Incompetence

All right, I jerked off Roy Oswalt just plenty earlier today, so there’s no reason to sit here and rehash that shameful display.  You know the score.  And I want to get back to terrorizing the Liberty City Police Department.

[Image courtesy of MMA Fever]

Phillies 9, Nationals 1

Couple of things.  The first time through the lineup, six out of nine of the Phillies hit singles.  One of them was Roy Oswalt.  Charlie Manuel called Wilson Valdez the “team MVP.”  It makes sense.  I mean, just check out the numbers.

GIDP: 19

Whoa!  Whoa.  Where did those numbers come from?!  Oh, right.  Reality.  Though it feels like so much than that.  There are definitely more than 19 fist-holes in my drywall.  So that means either the stats are lying or my night terrors have reached a brand new level.

The bases were loaded for Wilson Valdez.  What that usually means is one swing of the bat, two outs, and everybody says their latest Wilson Valdez jokes (WIIIILLLSSSOOONNN!!! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO NOW?!?! and so on).

It is a right old hilarious romp, except for the two outs that more than likely ended an inning or a rally.  Today, that exact thing was a Tim Tschida away from happening, only Wilson’s rightfully double play was robbed from him as the ball careened off umpire Tschida  and actually caused some runs to score.

Wilson, completely caught off guard, tried to run back to the dugout, only to be forced back onto the base path by teammates.  He kept trying to leave the field, however, screaming and foaming at the mouth, demanding two outs be placed on the scoreboard.

“Looks like a real Wilson Valdez Blockade,” I snickered, elbowing the guy next to me at the bar and clearly not paying attention.

He didn’t hear me because he was too busy high-fiving the bartender, and, as I pieced together what was going on, I hurled my legal pad full of Valdez-isms in the trash can and ordered an Adios Motherfucker.  The bartender told me she didn’t make drinks you could order in the basement of a frat party, and was I really trying to get date raped on a Friday afternoon in an Applebee’s?

I was tired, all right?  I was up until 3:30 filling that legal pad.  Thanks a lot, Tim Tschida.  Asshole.

But Wilson’s stupid awesome “base hit” scored some runs and broke enough of the game open to give you that feeling of “Okay, good, even we couldn’t screw this up.”

So Roy Oswalt, in his last start before the biggest series of the season, assaulted the strike zone 97 times before Charlie Manuel hogtied him.

“Looks like he’s got the Roy idea,” I quipped.

“You’ve been warned,” the bartender replied, as I threw another legal pad into the trash.  “Now are you going to order to settle up or what.”

“I actually have no money.”

And with that, some of our afternoons came to an abrupt end.  Not Roy, though.  He kept pounding those corners, and Jayson Werth and Chooch both homered to “pad” the Phillies lead (“pad” being the new favorite word of Phillies columnists, replacing “serviceable,” which was stopped from being used to describe Kyle Kendrick some time ago).

"“I think the pitchers are starting to feed off each other, and the hitters, it’s contagious.  One guy starts hitting and everybody starts hitting; hopefully we can carry it into the Atlanta series.”–Roy Oswalt"

Look, if everybody’s going to start contributing, things are going to get a lot less funny around here.  We’ll just be blathering on about runs and hits and dominance and that’s so much harder to make a joke out of.

Plus it’s going to cost me a fortune in legal pads.