It didn’t really even occur to me that we could lose.
Yeah, I saw the stats. We suck in AT&T. The Giants can hit Cole. Chase hasn’t been Chase. I don’t know what to tell you. I assumed some awesome thing would happen
So I suddenly realized, while waltzing down California Street in a bright red hoodie, that I was a marked man. Surely there was a sniper with a Giants hat perched at the top of the nearest skyscraper. Fans leaving the game would assemble into a terrifying mob of violent celebrants, vicious with ecstasy, flipping news vans, chucking televisions, and offering victims nothing but arrogant cheers and double middle fingers.
All of my past taunts of opposing fans were coming back to destroy me. No doubt I’d earned it. The Mets fan I announced was sterile. That baby in the Yankees hat I booed at the company picnic. That dog wearing a Braves sweater I lured into the intersection with marshmallows.
“Toto,” I said. “I don’t think we’re in Philly anymore.”
“Please stop calling me that,” demanded the pretzel vendor. “You buyin’ a pretzel or not?!”
NLCS GAME 3
Giants 3, Phillies 0
We got an especially disgusting performance from Raul Ibanez, who had a banner afternoon of striking out twice and then taking a break from that to ground into a double play to end the game; squashing any sort of rising crescendo of hope you had after Jimmy Rollins singled with one out.
Apparently Chooch was having the same romanticized fantasies as me while he was standing on second base, twice, waiting for the bat that would drive him across home. Only no one did and we all went home with a loss. The end.
Which was a bummer, when your office is pretty much empty because all of the Giants fans have left to go to a sports bar and watch the game in their brand new Giants gear they bought two weeks ago at that merchandise shop that opened three weeks ago.
But if you squint hard enough, you can see some good in this game. This isn’t the first time in this series we’ve trailed by a game. The Giants offense still hasn’t done anything incredible, we just did even less. Buster Posey struck out three times, Cody Ross struck out once (Awwwww!), and Cole struck out nine guys.
Also, this article says that pretty much everyone who shit the bed today immediately started cleaning up after themselves in the locker room today to avoid a mess of equal proportions tomorrow.
And best of all, in former-Cotton-avertisement-singer news, Zooey Deschanel sang at today’s baseball game! Holy shit! I think I just realized why they only allow Military personnel to perform songs at Citizens Bank. If people rush the field the “chase” will be a firmly delivered fore arm to the trachea.
And hey! Here’s another thing! You know that Phillies “P” that lights up the Amtrak Building every night and looks awesome?! I once dated a girl who almost crashed her car trying to take a picture of it with her cell phone.
Well, this kid is doing the same thing, but on his lawn. Hmm. I guess my lead-in to that actually made it even more boring. “My front lawn” as opposed to “A building that looks so cool it almost kills people” is a tough sell, I suppose. The real twist in this tale of murderous suburban rage simmering just below the surface comes when the kid’s neighbor gets home and sees what he’s done to the neighborhood’s property value!
“I pulled in the driveway and was a little shocked to see a big P in the yard, but I do like the Phillies so I couldn’t argue with it.”
–Rob Hamilton, neighbor
Okay, stop squinting. Its not good for your eyes.