Holy Sh*t, Jayson Werth Taps the Sh*t Off the Ball
By Justin Klugh
With the way this game ended, you’d think it would snare the headlines on most major sports media outlets. At least in the MLB portion. Unless something truly horrific happened on a baseball field today, or somebody was led through the inner chambers of a psychopath’s sanatorium, or I don’t know, like a cat or something.
Phillies 7, Nationals 6
Baseball is a visceral sport. As most, it is best enjoyed live, so when the moment happens, you can say, “I saw it!” which is like, as we all know, having a badge to be cool. Just like you always imagined in junior high. But this one doesn’t say “Sheriff of Burger King” on it.
It is all about drinking it in; the grass, the crowd, the electricity; it creates a divide between watching the sunset over the neon Liberty Bell and waiting for the delivery guy to call you as you stand halfway between your TV and the front door, neck hair bristling every time Gary Matthews says “Tag it and bag it” or whatever the hell his thing is.
So today, when I got to keep track of all sporting endeavors through the excitement of a constantly updating online box score, I gotta tell you. It was not even as good as that second thing I just said.
Being the only person in a room fist-pumping at a laptop–even if everyone else there is a direct family member–can alarm some folk, and alienate you from most conversations.
So for me, Jayson Werth hitting a baseball really far to win the game, sweep the Nats, and win 15 of 18 on our way to the Braves was pretty boring. I watched the ball come in. The blue dot popped up, indicating the ball was in play, and that it meant “run(s).” Then the Phillies won, 7 to 6. It was so much fun I almost took a nap in my chair.
But finally, when video footage of the game’s key moments did grace my pupils, I could appreciate the finale as more than just the text adventure I knew it as.
Kyle Kendrick and Joe Blanton, the members of the rotation who are not Roy Halladay, Roy Oswalt, or Cole Hamels and therefore barely exist, both managed to reach into their challenging filth of their status–Kendrick much more so than Blanton, whose solidity in his past few starts has been certifiable–and yank out a victory.
Exceptionally solid when you consider the context (playoff race, sweep) the time (just before facing the Braves), and terribleness (Kyle Kendrick) they were up against.
This, of course, leaves the desperately-in-need-of-a-universally-accepted-nickname “Big Three” or “Three Headed Monster,” standing in front of the Braves as they roll into town for three of the biggest, gin-soaked, fat-ass, Texas Chainsaw games of the season.
This guy, who wants to make sure you know he owns a leather jacket, says the Braves cannot wait to play the Phils.
"“I think everybody’s kind of had that in the back of their minds, like, can’t wait to play each other.”–David Ross"
Damn.
That is one sweet jacket.
But if you’re like me, and everyone is, you’re wondering–what does Billy Wagner think about all of this?
"“It’s a situation where the fans are going to be intense.”–Billy Wagner"
What? Have you ever even played in Philadelphia, Billy Wagner? This year has been nothing but record low ticket sales, a fascist state when it comes to fan behavior, and a child-friendly environment. Everyone has remained calm, seated, and kept their hands to themselves.
You’ll be fine, Billy Wagner.
When I was a kid, we didn’t have TBOH on Twitter. We had lice. They still followed us, though.