Friday, August 13, 2010
August 12 2010 PHI v LAD Game 3. If Loving Chooch Is Wrong..... I Don't Wanna Be Right
So, this morning Followers, I'm sitting in my living room watching the Phils, draining plasma, and the bottom of the 9th is about to get under way. The game is being shown on free-to-air so I can watch in my house for once. After the usual Blanton circus of piss-weak 1st and 6th innings and less than masculine relief pitching from Durbin and Contreras, we sit at a 6-9 scoreline in favor of the Dodgers. We battled back with a 4 run inning the frame before to bring us within 3 runs, a reasonable feat to charge.
Polanco steps to the plate to face good ol' Jonny Broxton. Yeah, you know his story. He's the closer we've beaten into the ground along with the team's World Series hopes for the last 2 years. I say to my wife "If he gets on, we're fucking winning this game...."
Broxton throws 2 heaters off the plate. He looks visibly nervous. He feels it, too. The almost spectral haze surrounding him and this situation. He can feel no good will come from this along with everyone of the remaining PHAITHFUL who stayed to watch all 9.
Then he beans Polly.
"There it fucking is!!! We're gonna win!!!!"
Mike Sweeney step to the plate. Sweeney's had a good night. He's 2-4 at this point even without Holy Diver as his plate music.
Sweeney battles Broxton to a full count, fouling off pitches he knows he can't do shit with. The fucking guy still can fire off 98 per rockets.
He gets the perfect pitch not to swing at and draws the walk.
At this point the air turns to hate. Broxton, Joe Torre, The Phaithful, The Men, I, my drainage bags.....we all know whats about to happen. It's almost frightening.
Jayson Werth, the tying run steps up and no shit..... he draws another fucking walk.
What the fuck is going on here, Followers? Am I psychic, am I making this happen. I sit in my rugby shorts that I've been wearing for the last 8 days, rubbing the brim of my Phillies cap, thinking to myself "here it comes, he's gonna do it, he's gonna fucking throw it away again.....it's almost fucking magical!"
Up to the plate is one of my favorite Men, Ben Francisco. He's had a decent night thus far. He was apart of the 8th inning rally that got us to where we are now. I'm feeling good about this. Ben Francisco looks like a black version of my friend Jon Collins. I haven't seen Jon in a fucking while. I guess he drives a BMW now....
Then Franny hits the fucking ball--the first in-play ball of the inning-- right towards fucking Casey Blake at 3rd. For sure this is gonna turn twoooo...WHAT!!!!??? The fucking ball goes throw his legs? What is this the fucking Muppet Show? HAHAH!!!!! BORK-BORK-BORK goes the Swedish Chef!! 2 runs score on the error, it's now 8-9 and still no fucking outs have been recorded!!!
Joe Torre visits the mound. You can see him mouth to Broxton "Just trust your pitches, trust yourself" or something to that effect. He knows its all fucked and over, he's just being diplomatic in trying to fight the thing called fate.
So now there is a man on 1st and 2nd, no outs and Carlos Ruiz, The Landscaper of Sanity, Chooch, steps to the place. The stadium howls with fury "CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCH" in anticipation of something right and good in this world.
The first pitch, strike. Right down the middle. Would've been a great one to launch into Heaven but Choochie is patient.
The second pitch, off the plate. The most liberal of fuck-nut umps couldn't have called that a strike. Chooch wants better.
The third pitch comes whizzing down the pike and then BLAM!!!! The fucking thing goes soaring..... You knew it, I knew it, Broxton knew it, Buddha knew it, George Washington knew it, Gene Wilder's dick knew it.....OFF THE CENTERFIELD WALL, 2 RUNS ARE GONNA SCORE CARLOS RUIZ WITH A WALK-OFF FUCKING SMASH TO FUCKING WIN THE GAME 10-9!!! JONATHAN BROXTON OWNED AGAIN!!!!!!!SUCK SHIT LA!!!!!
The Phillies won the game and the series. Jonathan Broxton has yet another chapter to add to his book of cursed failure against the Phils when up against it. Somehow it almost feels like we're still wreaking revenge on LA for all those late 70's mishaps where they ended up in the WS and not us. It's almost perfect baseball justice for Black Friday every time we see this team. It's almost fucking perfect. Now we just have to figure out how to get Joe Blanton to pitch a good first inning, hahahahahah!!!
Fuck new york, we'll see you pricks tonight!