Jesse Biddle Selected To Play In Front of Vomiteurs, Taserings, and Drunk Children; Phillies Lose Again
By Justin Klugh
It was 1994, and Major League Baseball was crippled by a players’ strike. Four giant chunks of the Kingdome in Seattle just sort of fell off. And Physicist Deepak Chopra finished a book about human nature, and how an understanding of our role in the natural world was the key to success, rather than the hard work and dedication many believed.
It was called “The Seven Spiritual Laws To Success,” and for the last few days, it has been at arm’s length of Jesse Biddle, who, while possibly attending Oregon University, has been sitting anxiously by the phone, waiting to hear from the Brewers, or the Braves, or better yet, the team that’s been winning and losing–mainly losing–on his TV since he was a child: The Phillies.
And so, the nerves of his 6′-5″, 235 pound frame most likely wracked, he watched as with all the fervor and enthusiasm of a man who has just died in his sleep, Bud Selig strolled to the front of the room and uttered into the microphone:
“With the 27th pick, the Philadelphia Phillies select Jesse Biddle, left handed pitcher from the Germantown Friends School.”
Biddle’s roll in nature just got a little bigger.
Padres 3, Phillies 1
Biddle’s precious Phillies, however, are filling a different roll in nature: the dead animal that has been lying there for weeks, being feasted on by any predator and/or scavenger that happened to be wandering by. Everyone’s had a turn. There’s not even really a lot of meat left; it’s just sort of a bony, dried up mess, rotting in the sun and smelling up the forest.
“Cole Hamels has a no hitter through six!” I told Roommate as he cruised through the living room. He said something to the tune of “Nobody cares,” and immediately left.
I remember thinking, “I sure hope the Phillies score some runs, though, or this awesome start will be a complete waste of everyone’s time!”
Then I blacked for awhile and when I woke up my laundry was all over the room and the “2008” banner that usually hangs on the wall was covered in blood stains, but none of it was mine. So that’s probably bad news.
In fact, the Phillies couldn’t really score any runs, and even though he managed to keep the first place Padres hitless for over six innings, once they slammed back to back dingers into the left field seats, they never looked back.
I don’t know why the runs counted. Both home run balls were hurled back onto the field. Typical “Jim Joyce” screw job.
Made up rules or not, Cole was a work of art, and managed to ward off an implosion until one out in the sixth, when the aforementioned home runs occurred. The Phillies answered with Operation: Too Little Too Late, which, once again, was an abysmal failure. With Ryan Howard on second after doubling in Placido Polanco, Jayson Werth grabbed his bat, strolled up to home plate, and was destroyed by Heath Bell and his totally hittable fastball.
Cole Hamels, hitless through 6.1, gets the loss.
“I can’t wait to play for this team!” Jesse Biddle was definitely thinking sarcastically as all of his wildest hopes and dreams came true on a single night.
The following Phillies have received bans from TBOH.
I would rather have Wilson Valdez hit than this guy right now, and Wilson Valdez regularly hits into a double play while brushing his teeth. He is 8-for-55 on the year, and is no longer allowed to bring his .145 BA anywhere near home plate. Why is he sticking around? Because he’s the “funny guy”? You know, there’s a reason they killed off Jamie Kennedy in Scream 2: Dead weight. You’ve gotta give David Arquette room to act, man. Everybody knows this.
Look, I don’t understand his appeal. He’s given up 24 hits in 24 innings, and he’s only appeared in 25 games. He’s basically a guaranteed offensive strike for the opposing team, it’s just a matter of “to how horrifying of a degree.” Somebody needs to give Mick Billmeyer a shepherd’s crook to grab Baez by the neck if he tries to stray out of the bullpen toward the pitcher’s mound.
Literally everyone is thinking it. Is kicking Raul (.229, 22 RBI) down the garbage chute going to fix everything? Hell no. But it sure is going to make me feel a lot better.
Tonight, Jesse Biddle’s fantasy of playing for his favorite childhood team came to a booming fruition. He is joining the ranks of a farm system that has been gutted with a machete, hopefully bringing a low 90s fastball and curve, as well as an intriguing slider with him. And yet, on that same night, the Phillies fall once again and split a four game series with the Padres, now only half a game ahead of the third place Mets, a mere 4 above .500, and even the children have taken to crawling inside the bottle.
Truly, this was a night that dreams are made of. But like, those weird dreams you used to have when you were a kid, where that cat from the painting in your living room would come to life, claw your eyes out, take a dump on your chest, and turn into your English teacher.