it would be, it would be so nice

October 9, 2009

Seriously I hope the music person at Dodger Stadium was on the ball (ahem) last night. Or at least played “Loretta” by the Nervous Eaters. Or, in honor of the game-winning hit, “Fist City” by Loretta Lynn. And I know I broke up with the Dodgers a decade ago, but this was just an amazing end to a game I wasn’t paying attention to at all until I saw the score in the eighth inning at the gym.

Ho hum series tied WAIT WHAAAAAAAATholliday

Since about June or so I’ve forgotten how wonderful baseball can be. Amazing how that realization is easy to come by when you’re watching two good teams battling it out.

Despite my defection (you can’t spell it without “defect”) to the Mets, as a native Los Angeleno I am hoping for a Freeway Series. In which case I’ll be rooting for the Angels, because I haven’t forgiven the Dodgers that much.

Otherwise, let’s go Twins and Rockies.

ETA: I didn’t hear this, but apparently Vin Scully said, “Matt Holliday is the loneliest man in all of Los Angeles as 51000 echo to the sky.” I miss that man.


oh please

October 30, 2008

Congratulations to the Philadelphia Phillies for riding a remarkably passable starting rotation and streaky offense and incredible douchitude all through the year and winning the World Series despite Monday’s Act of God and the Cinderella Rays who reached midnight and turned into a pumpkin. Hopefully this means you can FINALLY stop using Jose Reyes’s extended finger baserunning for motivation since, you know, YOU WON THE WORLD SERIES AND EVERYTHING.

So long as John McCain loses the election I’ll be able to almost kinda swallow this horrible horrible outcome.


an open letter to the los angeles dodgers

October 16, 2008

Dear Los Angeles Dodgers,

I write to you in a state of disrepair (much like your bullpen in Game 4 of the NLCS! Lolz!). Throughout this postseason I have vacillated from disappointment to envy, disillusionment to schadenfraude, dismissal to–finally–vague interest.

Last year this was not the case. Last year, after I coaxed myself out of numbness following the Mets Collapseā„¢, I managed to be brought along for the October fun by the Jesus Rockies and Eye Candy Sizemore and all those goddam Red Sox fans I know. This year has seemed futile except for Tampa Bay (and I await AndyMarkyMikeyJohnnySully’s FAAACKKKK YOOO. GO SAHX!) and, lo(l) the ever-underwhelming Cubs. But I wasn’t that invested with their fates.

The one common thread between this October and last: searing hatred of the Phillies.

Now Dodgers, you know how I feel about you. You know that I was in love you, prepared to give you my life, but you went and betrayed me during a period that should have solidified our coupling. You gave me Kirk Gibson hobbling around the bases. You gave me Hideo Nomo (the thing eventually broke down and nearly set the house on fire but it was lovely for a while). You gave me Mike Piazza, and then you took it away. This to me, as a hormonally unbalanced teenager, seemed like the ultimate betrayal. So I left you for the Mets. And though they may treat me badly, like I’m Meredith Baxter Birney in a Lifetime movie, I don’t feel betrayed by them. Beaten, abused, unsatisfied, unfulfilled, sure. But never betrayed.

You had the opportunity to do something good for me just this once, to–if not win back my love–earn my respect. And you let those clowns from Philadelphia just walk all over you. You were never a stand-up guy, Dodgers. It’s funny to think about it ten years later, but I knew that walking out on you was the best decision I could’ve made. I knew that the feverish passion I had for you was a product of my youth, of timing. I knew it would dissipate. Because I knew in the end you wouldn’t give a damn anyway.

Perhaps I should thank you for ten years ago. For instigating my shifting of loyalties. Because man, I may be disappointed, but at last I’m not the one who has to look at you right now: sitting there on the couch, belly hanging over your belt, dozing off with a beer in one hand as cheesesteaks rain on your fat head.

Thanks for nothing,

-Your Crazy Ex-Girlfriend


from joy to misery

September 25, 2008

3B
K
IBB
IBB
4-2
K


it could’ve been worse?

September 22, 2008

Yes, it could have. The Mets could’ve been swept in Atlanta. In fact, they really should have been, if not for the heroics of one Daniel “Jesus” Murphy on Friday, atoning for the sins of his teammates’ lousy (some would say “faggy,” oh how clever, sometimes I love other Mets fans) defense in the previous half-inning by doubling in the go ahead runs, leading to the inevitable FIRST! (and only!) Mets win in Atlanta this season. Because they then shit the bed in the following two games, in the most excruciating, dull, predictable of ways.

Why they should’ve been swept, reason #1: mediocre starting pitching. Oliver Perez danced in and out of trouble all night on Friday, furthering our love/hate relationship. There are very few who are as electric as Ollie is when he’s on, and as frustrating when he’s not. He’s got all the talent in the world, except between the ears (somehow this reminds me of a critique my music teacher gave me, saying I was really gifted but entirely lazy). On Saturday, Pedro Martinez had his requisite first inning troubles (three first-inning runs this time!) before settling in, and Mike Pelfrey did a pretty good Pedro impersonation by looking wild and uncomfortable for much of Sunday, until resembling the dominating pitcher he was in August (almost a matter of too little, too late).

Why they should’ve been swept, reason #2: the bullpen. But that’s almost a given at this point. Rather, the bullpen was great on Friday (even Heilman had a big strikeout!) and Saturday, so of course on Sunday (with a lead!) something had to give, and boy did they give. This group is a regular collective Santy Claus. But it’s easy to pick on retarded kittens, when a lot of the weekend’s blame should go to the supposed big cats.

Why they should’ve been swept, reason #3: the offense. Sure, the offense came through on Friday, thanks to Daniel Murphy, who was downright awful in the following two games, but it’s okay; just about everyone was awful in the following two games. When your only two runs on Saturday are driven in by YOUR PITCHER, something’s wrong. When you’re nursing a slim 4-2 lead knowing that Aaron Heilman and Scott Schoeneweis are in your bullpen, you need to score more runs. Especially with the opportunities given in the sixth and seventh innings. When the first two batters in an inning walk, then you have to lay down the bunt, Pelfrey! And not swing at the first pitches, Reyes and Murphy! And the next inning, Wright and Delgado single only to see Beltran pop up and Church ground out into a double play. Wee. That right there was the game, forget about the bullpen. Because now you just expect the bullpen to give up a few runs (two-run lead? NOT ENOUGH!). But especially seeing Delgado hit that two-run homer in the ninth, you would’ve liked to have seen at least one of those runners on base with no out in the sixth and seventh actually score. Yes. That would’ve been nice.

***

Congratulations to the Chicago Cubs for clinching the NL Central Division title. I texted my friend Michael to congratulate him, and he responded that he was “pretty much drunk right now.” Then this followed:

“I just realized i love the post season because you finally get shirtless heroes.”

Which, I mean, obviously. But, um…are there hot Cubs?! Oh, right: