Now, my dearly beloved Followers, this is what I'm talking about! Yesterday afternoon's 5-4 win over the sCrUBS is just the thing the business persons of PHL deserve. Of course we weren't gonna let the NL Central just waltz in and out with our nuts around their necks. Yes, I know we should've taken both of those games we jizzed away this week but that's the way love goes, sisters. A snapped 2 game losing streak has a better morning-after feeling with the floundering Red Sox billowing our way than giving up another one-run anal fissure to a mediocre side.
Big Joe held up his end of the bargain, catching up to the rest of the team yesterday tossing for 7, giving up 3 runs on 5 hits. He can't claim the W but he's almost shaken the April off his arm and its becoming more and more apparent with each start. Nothing fancy, just chipping away.
Utley got the scoreboard flickering with a solo shit in the top 1st, his 10th of the year. 1-0.
We sailed until the Cubbies decided to join the party in the top 5th with an RBI single from
bigfuckingdealyoungperson Starlin Castro. 1-1.
Jimmy Fucking Rollins, back in full force, showed the baby bears what it means to be a man by smacking the hoes with a 3-run winky-dinky-dog in the bottom 6th, feasting from the insurance-run butt-buffet.
The lead was quickly squandered when Derrick Lee walloped one into the left field haters off a Blanton meatball and then later in the inning when Alfonso Soriano scored on a sac fly from pincher Tyler Colvin. 4-3. Not cool.
Wouldn't you know it that good ol' Antonio Bastardiooooh in the top 8th would give that try-hard Matsui, Kosuckmo Fuk u do me, a nice high-hard piece of meat to send into the right field bleachers. Game tied. Fuck your mother. Just like in '41..... It wasn't even Bastards fault, he gave him high cheese. Who knew it would be spooning with an accountant half a second late. Danys Baez came swooping in to clean the mess. 4-4.
But never fear, my Followers when Raul is in the wings, lurking like a mad cunt in the bottom 8th. Ibany mans the fuck up, knocking in the go ahead run lining it to center. Funkengrooven's throw was off line and Chutley slides on in. 5-4. "RAUUUUUUUUUUL!!!!!" goes the maniax!
Then it was time for Jose, Jose Quite Contreras to climb the mound for a motherfucking ball-in-throat cliff hanger of a top 9th. He hits Soriano with the 11th pitch of the at bat and then lets Mike Fontenot smack a liner to center putting men on the corners, no outs. Jose whiffs Starlin Castro and Aramis Ramirez but allows Fontenot to steal second. Men at 2nd and 3rd, 2 out. This is when the bad things usually happen in baseball. Not today, Followers, because mr mister Geovany (I know it's not how it's really spelled) Soto pops one into foul ground for Big Piece to snatch the last out of the air like a hummingbird's virginity. Jose gets save 2 of his career. 5-4, we win, suck me.
Every dorky blog I read is fretting hard about the Red Sox' return to Philly tonight and the Fightin's poor interleague record. I hope to think that we can shrug off the bullshit predictions predicated on the outings of yore and not sweat a team fingering itself in the AL East cellar. I understand it's perhaps the shittest division to be lumped into, you try out-selling McDonalds, but still these guys have been major players for the last 4 years and were a lot of the reason teams like the O's and Jays have reason to bitch. You can't really cry "salary cap" as a excuse for their performance. They have seen the light come and go. Not to say I'm not a tad scared about shaking that monkey off our collective back but it just doesn't seem like the we should be shivery in our cleats of the big bad beantown bangers right now. We have bigger fish to fry but we still have to fry these fucks first. Go Phils!
No funny stuff today. I'm a man with needs, alright? I got ebay auctions to run. I will bring the ha-ha's tomorrow with a funny thing I found on a menu at a place called wokinabox. Until then, Followers, fuck new york and fuck boston and fuck 'em all and fuck you momma and fuck The MOMA.