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.

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

cheering for vs. rooting against

October 10, 2007

As a Mets fan first and a baseball fan second, this postseason so far has been one where I’ve been in the position of wondering whether I was cheering for a team or rooting against one. I know it’s not particularly novel, but considering Worst Collapse In History Etc., I wasn’t sure if I needed a break from baseball, if it would be too heartbreaking to watch a postseason that should have included the Mets goddammit, but then: why wallow when you can lash out? The game goes on, and what a beauty of a game it is. Especially when my feared Yankees-Phillies World Series projection was snuffed out early. Schadenfreude is delicious. As are the tears of a clown.

With the four teams competing for a World Series berth, it’ll be less about rooting against. There are no remaining enemies on the Yankees or Phillies scale, really. The Indians are a good, young, exciting team that outslugged the vaunted Yankees; too bad about the racist mascot. The Red Sox are full of lovable talented goofballs; the vaunted New England Smug that would choke the rest of the country were they to get another title would be the only drawback. The Rockies smacked around the Phillies, which is enough to give them my loyalty for the month; if they win it, I’m worried that they will never ever lose another game ever again. The Diamondbacks…I dunno, whatever. But the fact that I have no major beef with any of these teams means that I can just enjoy the play and its subsequent dramatics.

So to celebrate, here are the Babe Representatives of the ALCS and NLCS. I really have nothing much else to say.

Cleveland Indians: Grady Sizemore

Look at my dimples! I am ADORABLE, hello. [note: Sizemore’s pictorial Jekyll and Hyde-ness is curious; sometimes he is the hottest thing on two legs, sometimes he looks like a stoned mook.]

Boston Red Sox: Jacoby Ellsbury

I’m the hottest Indian this side of Sizemore LOLZ.

(Alternately, there’s also GM Theo Epstein. Am I crazy, or this guy a total babelicious hunk?

Also, I’ve been told his grandpa wrote Casablanca and his sister worked on Homicide: Life on the Street. Can I be an Epstein, please?)

Colorado Rockies: Matt Holliday

That position works well for you, Matty. Um…excuse me for one second.

Arizona Diamondbacks: Micah Owings

I mean, I guess? Any pitcher who can hit two home runs in a game is pretty studly in my book. Also, the Dbacks: not particularly loaded with hotties.

In Mets land, there’s really nothing that I could write that would be any better than this analysis by the incomparable Faith and Fear in Flushing. I agree with just about everything said in it, so just go and read that rather than my drivel.


September 5, 2007

It comes and goes.

Not gonna talk about today’s Mets loss to the Reds. 7-0 against Who The Fuck Are These Pitchers?!?!?!?!??! Okay. I mean, Johnny Maine just perplexes me to no end. I get that Ollie is the erratic inconsistent headcase genius (see: last night, which btw: our Golden Boys Reyes and Wright go a combined 0-for-10 and you’re telling me we won? Buh?! Paul Lo Duca: 3-5, 2 3-run homers and 7 RBIs. Shawn Green: 3-5, 2 RBI. Pedro is some magician lemme tell ya), but Maine? Up until the All-Star Break, Maine was generally solid, sometimes even brilliant (shutting down the Braves in a must-win game against TIM HUDSON allows me to use that adjective). I know he’s an introspective guy, but maybe he needs to just be dumb once in a while and just throw the goddam ball as hard as he can and stop worrying so much about whatever the hell gets into his head. Stop worrying about the home run you gave up, or the guy on base, or whatever. Bear down and fucking get that batter out. I know that’s easier said than done, but sometimes he can get this curiously frantic and nervous look that worries me, gives me pause. Ollie and Maine: still some work to do, kids. Just look at Pedro on Monday. Try and get even close to resembling the determined look in his eyes.

But I mean, a 7-0 loss after this dramatic road trip (including a homestand, this was 16 games in a row without a break, which seems kind of like a lot but what do I know) was kind of predictable. Five game losing streak, five game winning streak, the return of Pedro, and a godawful afternoon start time for the last game with most of your starters benched or hurt: letdown. I understand, and am not too upset.


I mean honestly, they are up 8-2 when the bottom of the 8th starts, and they lose 9-8? WAIT. HOLD UP. They were still up 8-6 in the bottom of the ninth? And two outs?! AND THEY LOSE 10-8?!?/1?@P11/1/!!? Oh man. Forgive my hysteria, but after the gut-punch the Phillies gave to the Mets last Thursday (y’all know what I’m saying), knowing that the Mets–even with this stupid lame boring 7-0 loss today–are still 5 up on the Phillies and now 7.5 on the Braves, well, some levity is certainly due.

Um, after the off day tomorrow (hey Reyes, eat some Wheaties or a Luna bar or something) they face Living Legend Wandy Rodriguez on Friday. Hopefully Mike Pelfrey won’t follow John Maine’s lead today, and will build on his impressive performance in Atlanta. Then we’ve got Glav on Saturday, leading up to the Big Event: PEDRO’S RETURN TO SHEA. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee. I’ll be waaaaayyyyy up there screaming my larynx dry and dusty.