Monday, July 03, 2006

7-3-06: there are no words

It was the worst game ever because it was the night AFTER that massacre in the Bronx.  It was the worst game ever because THE PIRATES ARE THE WORST TEAM IN THE LEAGUE and not only did we lose, WE LOST 11-1! OH MY GOD! What is WRONG with all of you! You can’t even blame Angel Hernandez for anything that happened this time! I mean, a single-digit loss I could live with, a one-run loss I could shrug off -

BUT ELEVEN RUNS TO ONE!  HELLO???! IS ANYBODY *REALLY* ALIVE OUT THERE?

I can curse Bradford but I won’t, he’s gotten us out of tight spots before, I can curse Feliciano but look at his numbers and, again, what he’s done for us before.

WHERE WERE THE BATS? WHERE WERE THE RUNS? WHERE WAS THE DEFENSE?

I know it is miserably humid tonight but the guys from PITTSBURGH didn’t seem to have any problems.

TBF decided to keep score tonight, since I was not home until around 9pm, but somewhere around the 8th inning he suddenly yelled, “What’s the point?!” and smashed his pen against the clipboard and wrote, ‘SHITTY GAME, NOT WORTH KEEPING SCORE’ across the scorecard.

He also bought a bag of Doritos for the game tomorrow, and while I normally can’t stand Doritos, and had a perfectly nice dinner with a girlfriend earlier in the evening, found the bag awfully attractive about the 7th inning. I finally made TBF take them away and HIDE them.
“Be glad you didn’t find them a few innings earlier; it’s the type of game you would have eaten the whole bag by now.”
“I thought only girls did that kind of thing.”
He shakes his head in a manner meant to indicate disbelief.

TBF: “Don’t worry, Glavine’s pitching tomorrow.”
Me: “And that consoles me how?”
TBF: “It’s Glavine.”
Me: “Who has had some less than stellar outings lately.”
TBF: “But we always seem to win anyway.”
Me: “Yes, when we bring some offense and defense, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but THERE ISN’T ANY RIGHT NOW.”

I am kicking the ground in disgust.