Thursday, June 24, 2010

June 24 2010 PHI v CLE Game 3. Phils Shellac Chief Getting Sweeped

Poor Tribe. Really, Followers, I'm not gonna jump all over this sweep like it was some major fucking athletic achievement, we beat a last place team. It just pains me to see this team wallowing in squallor like this. Yes, I do have a spot in my heart for The Tribe. They are my AL team. I spent 2 years of my life in Cleveland, 2 of the better years, and 7 dollar Homerun Deck tickets were always a fucking delightful treat. I would even go by myself like a loser sometimes. See, if I were Gerard Cosloy I would said "like a loser or Will Leitch". I have matured somewhat, at least to my notice.

With those feeling aside, I still cannot mask the true glee that fills my every cell when the FUCKING PHILLIES SWEEP SOME MOTHERFUCKERS! The 12-3 housing the men put to the Reservation was a good old fashion Phillies Beatdown. Joe Blanton was the true picture of fat-man strength and the bats played a little game unfamiliar to Citizens Bank Park called small-ball. The sole home run of the afternoon (for the Phils) was rope by newbie Dane Sardinha, our new little Hawaiian non-roster invitee catcher. I'm not even going to fucking start describing innings to you, that's what fucking Gameday is for. There simply were too many hits and I don't have all day. We hit the fuck out of the ball and Blanton pitched the fuck out of the ball. Done deal, in and out.

Chollie got ejected...again, all for getting in FB ump Greg Gibson's face cause he called Shane Victorino out for leaving the baseline to avoid a tag. Fuckin bullshit, Gibson. Charlie Manuel, standing up for the men like only he can. Victorino owes him a fucking kidney.

Of course I wasn't there to witness this Act of God, but in the top of the 8th a fucking maelstrom descended upon the land of good and gooder, CBP. Take a look at this shit:

Also, Followers, be sure to watch out for this bespectacled maniac at Friday night's game against the Jays. Some call him Sean Gray, those select chosen few that call themselves Followers (you) call him The Cripple. He'll be sitting along the 3rd baseline in the 300s with another one of his dorky friends. Please, if you have time or are sitting in his vicinity, hassle the fuck out of him. Knoogies, wedgies, Cheesesteaks to the dome, anything. He'll take it. He's a Real American. I assure you you'll have no trouble finding him. He'll be the guy with the walker and he'll be screaming about how much music sucks and baseball rules. Give him a hard time on me!

I'm taking the day off tomorrow to give way to our newest east coast correspondent, the aforementioned Cripple himself, and his truly revelatory analysis of the Phils/Jays series opener. You know, the series that Jeff Francoeur was crying about us hosting in Philly because it was originally supposed to be in Toronto but some Star Trek convention is being held there. Should be a doozy, me thinks. Good Ol' Roy-Boy pitted against his former side. They know his stuff so let's see if he can sneak it by motherfuckers. Until The Cripple makes a mockery of The Clog, fuck new york and donate to your local Cerebral Palsy charity. We're 2.5 games back, motherfuckers! Let's keep it rolling!


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