When Charlie hustled out to the mound faster than any of us knew he could move, Doc was disgusted.
And not even for the normal reasons, like allowing a single run or realizing that none of the Cardinals had any souls left on which to feed. As usual, he just wanted to keep playing baseball.
So, Charlie got to the mound, and some of the infielders joined him. After a few moments of prolonged dialogue, it became clear first to the crowd, and then the announcers, that this was one of those times when the manager wasn’t there to take the ball and pat his pitcher on the back.
“It’s over, Roy,” Charlie didn’t say. “You’re finished.”
Instead, he jogged back off the field, and Doc stayed right where he belonged. One pitch later, the inning was over, and nobody was surprised. It’s Doc. It’s baseball. The two were made for each other.
Phillies 7, Cardinals 2
In the wake of Robin Roberts’ death, Roy Halladay came out and did what he does, while Jayson Werth plugged in the offense with a HR and a pair of doubles (after a night of three strikeouts). Also, Carlos Ruiz
Maybe we are a mere 28 games into the season, but there is nowhere near the Phillies dominance predicted by preseason analysis. Namely, mine. But I tend to get a little too overly emotional/intoxicated while making predictions (e.g., my Final Four bracket) and things wind up a little too… wrong. For instance, I also predicted the Yankees to start the season 1-9. In the sense that “predicted” means “screamed through Roommate’s door while he was trying to sleep.”
Obviously the Phillies can be figured out or we wouldn’t be cartwheeling with glee because Cole Hamels did a thing for the first time without giving up six runs. But this series against the Cardinals was an important stepping stone across a river of shit.
Going into that Mets series, it felt as though we might be facing competition we didn’t expect and couldn’t handle. A 9-1 loss at the hands of any team from New York is enough to make you want to eat a fire bomb. Clearly, it was scarring because I’m still talking about it. The fire bomb, I mean. Incredibly scarring. So to come back and win that series was a huge weight off our shoulders.
But in this instance, we were playing a team that could actually make the post season, so it was even more of a big deal. To have a lot of our pitching staff come out strong (and for some of them, it was a long time coming) is a relief, just to see that they are capable of such a feat, but to have it come against the Cardinals, the team with a lineup that rivals ours and a rotation that’s half Cy Young candidates…
I mean, my recurring nightmare of the Cloverfield monster emerging out of the Schuylkill with Albert Pujols’ head and throwing a baseball bat through a picture of my family has stopped. For now. So that’s something to take away from all this.
Then again, I’m the guy who was practically in tears, claiming the Braves were going to be unstoppable, and they’re in last. Phils-Braves. 7:05. Citizens Bank Park. Now, its Jamie Moyer’s time to do something incredible. How can he top the latest Phillies pitching accolades? Drive a fire truck onto the field and circle the bases? Start a bloody fist-fight with every child in the stands, one at a time? Strike out the umpire?
All right, just… settle down.