Thursday, September 30, 2010

September 29 2010 PHI v WSH Game 3. Pine Lined With Fine Wine

Fuck, Followers. If this is the type of shit we're gonna be treated to by our bench-riders then they might as well open up a fucking BBQ restaurant as an outlet to serve their large-testicled ass-beatings cause they certainly ain't getting enough field time under Chollie. A 7-1 fingering as a result of 2(two) jizzjolts from Benny Fran and solo shots each by Sweener and Mayberry jr was on the menu last night. Do you like my shitty food service metaphor? Neither do I, it's shit. Joe Blanton might, he's a big fella with a big sack of stuffs for the opposition as displayed in his performance, as well. I really hope I'm worrying for nothing about next week. I guess it's just fucking jitters, the same I've had for the last 3 years.

What's up with fucking Ben Francisco? What the fuck did I say yesterday? The grass, the dirt, the ball, the bat, the look, the touch and feel of Satin all miss this little non-Latino-with-Latino-named motherfucker. My friends at Utley's Corner posed a question that's been rolling around my stupid head since the end of last August; How many other teams would be boner-up to have him as a starter? He hits well, he's great defensively, he's adorable. What the fuck is the problem here?

Now, I'm not saying that we should dumped anyone for him but the situation in which we are missng a starting outfielder is about to arise next season with the imminent FA walking of The Rooster. We know he's not coming back so that leaves a big hole out there on the green part of CBP. Ibanez, the man you all wanted sacked in June, is Phucking tits again and ain't going anywhere til at least 2012 so he's cool. I don't see Fryin' Hawaiian going anywhere and Dom Brown--as awesome as he's been for us as a benchy-- will most likely not be starting next season. Ben Franscico starter or Ben/D-Bro duty split? The latter seems more likely where as the former would be a hindrance to young talent. John Mayberry jr seems too raw to give anything more than a September call-up so we can leave him gestate for awhile....

I'm rambling. My point? We'll be just fucking fine is Werth walks. Not that I wouldn't have him back. We'll be just Phucking Phine. Ben Franscico, your efforts and talents do not go unnoticed around these parts. TBSS has saluted you and will continue to Phucking salute you until you're starting for some other gay team. Until then, you're cool.

How about Big Joe getting revenge for his last start against these national pricks with a little 1-run bewdy? He's been making a strong case for a 4th post-season starter if the need be. What more should you expect from this man? His mandatory 6-7 and no more innings have been getting sharper as the season wears on, his injuries have obviously finally healed and he's swearing more at umpires. Man? MAN. Give him the ball if we're up 3-0 on the reds in a series. Phuck them all.

Check it out, even in Ireland they know what's what:

Ok, I guess I have to punch more fucking potatoes down my fat face because my extended family here in Waterford refuse to let my bowels be. I really have no time to even fucking write The Clog with all the food and straining to understand words. Tonight the Phils have a breather so I may take one as well. I know the editions have been suffering but have mercy, I'm a travellin' man by force of hand not choice. It's a fucking arduous test getting this shit done with the slipshod, Keebler elves style internet offered on these shores. And what the fuck can you really say about the last week of the season? Yes, I'm excited but I'm also bloated. Whatever, this is still the best read on "the net" Phils-wise. Piss on everything else. I have to go, my mother-in-law is screaming and it's food time again. Phuck me.

Anyways, fuck new york, let your dog shit on them. 95 wins, motherfuckers.


Wednesday, September 29, 2010

September 28 2010 PHI v WSH Game 2. Top Of The 4th To You, Laddy

Well, Followers. I think we can safely say that we are fucked. Hung-over maybe? Falling 1-2 to the mighty warshington gnationals in the heat of a late September sacksweat-fest......

PSYYYYYYYYYYCHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (in the voice of Tron) By the way the name of today's edition is joke my wife always says during games. I know what yer thinking. "How did you marry such a shitty comedian?"

The only thing that really sucks about clinching your division a week before the regular season ends in having to watch your pine-riders finish the year out for ya. Mr. Bocock and sons did a great job out there last night but honestly, who gives a shit? Most of these duders will not see the show otherwise so we're not even glimpsing the future. Throw 'em a bone for the season is owned. Poor Ben Francisco. The grass misses hm in Cleveland. Oswalt still got the ball and the mound for 5, giving up 2 hits and 1 meager run to a full strength (sorta) side.Apart from Roy's ability I think his brash anti-media sentiments go a long way in this city. Motherfucker hates reporters and rightfully so. The start of the season has the man reading of his own washed-up existence on a sub-.500 team. Now look where the Phuck he's sitting. You know if he could piss on someone at the Houston Chronicle mother's tea and toast he would.

Now that Os has had his last dance for the reg the rotation is fucking set. 1-2-3 ROY TOY, KING COLE aka COLIO and BIG BUCK PHUCKING HUNTER. This, if anything, should be interesting. By interesting I mean blood curdling for any other team to have to face. Fuck, I got tickets to game 2 of the DS. See you Phuckers there!

So, I've been in Ireland for the last 30 hours and I'm into it. Lots of green shit and drunk gibberish. It reminds me of nowhere. It's it's own entity, separate in every way, especially in respect to the rest of the world. Kind of like Fishtown. It's the only country that rivals Italy in Ancestral T-shirt Boasting By Dickheads.  I'll break down my initial impressions of the place in the simplest of terms; the old pros and cons.


1. Thin Lizzy were from here. This is a great stat to have on your record. It almost negates Enya, Bono and The Procalaimers. Who were from Scotland. One time my old boss asked if I like "The Boys From Ireland" like a real dickhead. I was stumped. "Thin Lizzy?" I replied. He was no stoked. U2 fans are serious fucking retarded weirdos.

2.Everyone is drunk and makes no sense. This is awesome because you can basically say anything to anyone and nod your head.

3. The Beer. I know, I know this is fucking cliche's as balls but it really is god fucking brew and with the women they got running around this village it oughta fucking be. I had one of those thick, dark fucking beers that nerds like to wear the t-shirt of in Boston. It's very good on this side of the big ocean. I'm not saying pond.


1. Everyone here is Irish. Yeah, I get it, You like to drink a lot and sing and then poop your pants. It's cool in The Wire and in breakfast cereal but when you're surrounded you just have to fucking take a knee about every 25 minutes and hide in a bathroom.

2. No Americans. This fucks up any country for me. They wouldn't call America the greatest nation on Earth if it wasn't true. Why not import some Americans to every country and see what happens.The Earth might kick ass someday.

3. No Baseball. This also fucks up anything and any place for me. Now, don't get me wrong. These Irish are hard cunts and play very aggressive sports like Gaelic Football and Rugby but I still could never live in a land without the Great American Pastime like Australia.

Let's hope tonight we can squeak one more win outta the bench to claim fully home field through the duration of the post-season. Who am I kidding and what the fuck am I worried about? Get back to work, Followers. I know I take up too much of your precious time. If you'd like to call me on your break email me. It's 5 dollars a call and you must host.

Fuck new york and vodafone is a fucking dumpster full of used maxis.


Tuesday, September 28, 2010

September 27 2010 PHI v WSH Game 1. 21 Clinch Street

Phuck everyone right now. This is our time to shine, to spray shitty sparkling wine all over one another in sexual festivities as the Phucking Phillies seal the deal on their 4th consecutive division championship with an 8-0 bashing of the gnats. After all the fucking bullshit injuries and naysayer and braves hype we Phucking walk away 5 days before the end of regular seasn play with a flag in our pockets, ready to destroy. A 2 hitter, Roy, are you shittin' me? If anyone has doubts about this man's ability to kick the bull in the dick in the clutch you might as well just fucking lop your cock off right Phucking now. The Men bash and bash away and behind it all is his fucking evil assassin.

Oh yeah, it was also this mean motherfucker's 21st fucking W. If they don't deliver the Cy Young to this man inside of Anne Hathaway's vagina this world is thee most fucked.

My life has seriously turned into an endless cycle of planes, bitchy 57 year old stewardesses and sleep depravation. I am now in Ireland on 30 minutes sleep being ear bashed by 30 new relatives. Please forgive my brevity on such a joyous occassion, Followers. I think we all deserve a Phucking rest. Back to the play-offs we go.


Fuck new york and sleep well, Phriends. I will have more detailed descriptins of my assholish exlpoits and this place caled Ireland tomorrow. Expect Joyce-like eloquence, F's.


Monday, September 27, 2010

September 26 2010 PHI v NYM Game 3. Hefty Hefty Clinch Sack

It sure is a shame it had to go down this way, Followers, it is. Dropping the last muts series of the year, the finale of which being a NL east clinching situation. It really is a shame that our boys couldn't fucking crack open them champagne bottles and jizz each other down like a boring night at the frat house in victorious, orgasmic glee with the muts firmly under our heels for yet another season. It's a real fucking bonzo bummer that the umpire wanted to shove a lamp post up Cole Hamels' dickeye rather than do their jobs. It's also blows that we could hit for fucking dick with RISP. It's a crying Phucking shame, really. Especially on Fan Apreesh Day.

But you know what ain't such a shame? That we, THE MIGHTY PHUCKING PHIGHTIN'S, are no fucking matter what, going to the fucking post-season while the loathsome flushing queens get to head back to their off-season carwash gigs and pending assault cases! Phuck you. There is mathematically no way the Phils could be eliminated as no one in the National League can best the Phillies 93 wins. Even with your little final gasp of victory you cannot stop shit. You are weak. Blow me. My penis.

I think it's pretty apparent that the muts masterfully laid down for the braves in some tawdry attempt to thwart the Fightin's chance at a division title. I honestly would not put this hypothesis of mine past these cretins from the upper borough. 

And really, we have to fucking get our shit together with RISP. Yesterday was a fucking joke. I think we stranded maybe 36,000 runners with a 2 run deficit. I understand the urge to play your asses off might be waining with the clinch possibility seeming so inevitable but fuck, if we're to stay hot we have to play hot-to-Phucking-trot all the way. No Phucking mercy for the weak. Complete and utter vagina covering domination. Grind your teeth, bear the fuck down, wear women's underwear or dirty condoms, whatever. Stay horny.

Could it be the clinch jitters? Anxious to finish? I know the feeling. It's like the old joke. 

Me: How can you tell when a woman's has had an orgasm?

Chris Wheeler: Are you serious?

It was still a Phucking good time at the park yesterday as I got to meet Follower Karen. It was good to see her hurling drunken abuse at any mats fan within earshot. I think I saw her even whip out a Phillies themed blow-dart pipe. It's amazing what you can do while yer on the clock @ CBP.

I'm leaving the fucking country AGAIN tonight, F's but this time for a much shorter duration. I'm going to Ireland to drink a lot and stalk Adam Clayton, sexually. Hopefully I can buy a Guinness shirt and have a whiskey with the town leper as he peels potatoes for his village. Or plan a bombing. I'll be home the day before the play-offs start. Just letting yous know The Clog might be filled with dorky images of an American abroad being as ignorant as possible on purpose to show the rest of the world who's fucking boss. We are. Please don't crowd my family at the airport for autographs, I'll be having a blog signing at the Wawa at Girard and York next month, yo.

If we get 'er done tonight in DC it's only fitting that Doc be on the mound. He has been with it all season. Hopefully all The Men watched the season premier of Eastbound and Down last night for inspiration. It was the titties. "If there's one thing I hate more than anything in the world, it's soccer! And I hate when people do it around me!" Nuff said.

Fuck new york and most times use protection.


Sunday, September 26, 2010

September 25 2010 PHI v NYM Game 2. What Phucking Ever

Motherfucker. Though, what the fuck did we expect, F's? Did we really fucking think they'd win every fucking game for now until November? Well, yes we did. That doesn't mean it was gonna happen. But to go down like we did last night to the fucking barfbag full of used tampons they call the new york mets. One shittily pitched inning and one botched dp ball and we're up shit crick with a piece of petrified dog stool for a paddle.

We fucking sure as hell can't pin this loss on Kyle Kendrick. Motherfucker looked like his middle name was Roy for the first 6 innings. Working quick, getting ahead in the counts. Not taking shit. Manly man. It all just went to shit, what can you do when everyone's hacking at the plate with clinch fever. Just too anxious and too complacent. It's not KK's fault we only drove in 2 runs with 1 hit. He didn't miss and inning ending dp ball, Howard did. He didn't give up a bases-clearing double, Durbin did. It wasn't Kendrick who brought in the White Flags from the bullpen. Poor and complacent defense killed Kyle's campaign of domination.

But you know what, Followers? Who gives a Phuck? Our magical numero is still 2. The sky is still blue. The birds are still fucking in the tress. We were going to lose a couple of these games, it's not fucking Greek yogurt it's baseball. Take a deep breath a realize you're a Phillies Phan. Life is good.

Cole Hamels takes hill in Philadelphia just about the time Livan Hernadez takes mound in DC. Today could be the day or it could not be the day, at least we've got the odds in out favor.

I'm going to start drinking now. Fuck new york and do something nice for neighbor like trim his hedges or fuck his wife. Suckinonachiledog.


Saturday, September 25, 2010

September 24 2010 PHI v NYM Game 1. Phils Phly, Muts Cry

HEEEEEELLOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! (in the voice of Mrs. Doubtfire, that bitch) 

It's a great morning to be a Phillies Phan, idnit? Joe Blanton's studly fucking performance and Shane Fucking Victorino with his macho nut RBIs bring R.A Dorkey and the cryin' muts to their knees in last night's 3-2 victory. The Phucking Magic Number is 2 since the knaves got flogged by the gnats, we seal the best record in the fucking entire league and we bring our winning streak to a happy 11 games. The Testicles are full of power.

So how about Big Joe Blanton, Followers? Aside from those pesky, shitty high sinkers that don't seem to sink and usually end up souvenir's, he's having a pretty fucking good conclusion to his season. 7 inning, 6 hits , 6 Ks and 2 runs on one stupid mistake in the form of an Angel Pagan 2-run meatball bash. Quality start. He's going into the post season with the notion that he is Phucking ready to ball-up for the 4th starter spot. I feel much fucking better than I did say June about him possibly getting the ball in a game 4 situation, at least for a DS or CS situation. He's not pretty but he's effective. He want to win and he wants to fuck. Questions?

Shane VIC-TO-RI-FUCKING-NO woke up on the right side last night with a sexual little lead off homer and RBI double in the 2nd off the knuckler. It's about time this little fucker did something around her, I KID, I KID! Happy to see this little Hawaiian motherfucker get some sank on the wood. He gets the big hits but does he get the big sandwich?

After the Angel Pagan 2-runner in the 4th to tie it up, some beautiful little Panamanian Prince name Carlos Phucking Ruiz came up and said suck my Latino Boner. He smoked a stupid knuckle ball down the fucking right field line to score Raul Ibanez--who singled and reached second on a cock-up pitch-- and took back the lead, 3-2. The lead by the way that would not fucking waver for the rest of the fucking game. 

A lead that was kept by plays like fucking Joe Blanton taking a face plant to stymie a Pagan bunt up the 1st baseline by shoveling the ball to Big Piece in time to get the out. What a sick motherfucker.

A lead that was kept by Ryan Phucking Madson being a legend with is 1-2-3 8th and a lead that was kept by Brad Phucking Lidge and his 4 out save because Ike Davis doesn't know how to fucking call a time-out properly. Seriously, if you didn't see the last out of this game go back and fucking check it out you'll find it, this is the internet.. It was serious bullshit and if that ball went up the fucking middle do you think they'd be bitching about a t-o then? Amateur.

Also, David Wright is a fucking whinging pussy. In a quote to ESPN he states that the slide by Chase Utley into Ruben Tejada to break up a dp in the was crossing a line, that he thought it was wrong, that it's cool and over but then ends his ball-less quip by saying the team will gun for Utley.

"Chase, he plays the game hard. He plays the game passionately. But there's a thin line between going out there and playing the game hard and going out there trying to get somebody hurt. That's a thin line. Nobody is going to push us around. We're going to have our teammate's back. I think cooler heads prevailed, but we've got to let them know that over on our side we didn't appreciate it and that we're going to go out there and have our teammates' backs. I think our bench let him know. As far as I'm concerned, it's done. We move on. We'll reevaluate the way we go into second base."

I'm sorry, David. Really, Chase didn't mean to kick some dirt into your fellow teammate's vagina. In Philadelphia we play a game called BASEBALL and we play it fucking hard. You can also tell your jawing little buddy Mike Pelfrey to fucking get over it and grow 2.

Chollie better be standing at the stairs of the fucking dugout with a shotgun to make sure these 18.5-games-back-babies don't do anything stupid.

The braves will have already finished their little game by the time Kendrick takes hill tonight. We'll know fucking full well whether or not we can clinch the shit. Phuck it, one game at a time. Keep your head down and play it fucking hard and it will come. No time for the weak, only the true strong cunts. Sorry, I'm watching the AFL Grand Final as I type this. The announcers are quite filthy.

Fuck new york and get the Phuck over it.


Friday, September 24, 2010

When There's No Phillies.....

.....there's always t-shirts.

Yesterday, in an attempt to fill my stupid life with worthwhile tasks while the Phillies weren't on, I stopped by my pal Ralph's screen printing shop, Awesome Dudes. Ralph--being the Ledge-cunt that he is--said I could come down and print a 17 and a Jordan on the back of one of my old Phils' shirts to pay tribute to the 4th best 1st baseman the Fightin's roster was ever graced with, Ricky Fucking Jordan.

Ralph did a bit of clickity-clackity on his little computer like a bearded genie and 5 minutes later I was burning the fuck out of my new Ricky Jordan screen. You see, he's no soft cock or weak animal. Man.

After some spraying and the mashing of some ink and my muscles, I was tossing my shirt down the dryer the wrong way like a dumbshit with the imprinted name and number of a legend. Moments after I stopped being a stupid dickhead, I was the proud owner of a Phucking new/old RFJ shirt. Very large testicles.

I honor of Ralph and his men being Awesome Dudes....This Hoagie's for you.

Tonight I may be attending the Blanton v Dickie series opener. It all depends whether or not my sister's beerpong team made it to the semi's. I guess I'll find out around 2 or 3 pm.

Fuck new york for all your screen printing needs don't Phuck around. Go to the Awesome Dudes. Just keep them the fuck away from your kids.


Thursday, September 23, 2010

September 22 2010 PHI v ATL Game 3. Not Tonight, Bobby

Last night I had to watch the game at a yuppy bar that didn't serve Yuengling and had new age women handing out sample of experimental food. It was my best friend's birthday and we both knew the bartender so it wasn't too shitty.

I was seriously losing my fucking mind during this mangled pitcher's duel. There was no way in hell I could pay attention to other people while Roy Fucking Big Buck Hunter was fucking mowing cunts down. For 7 innings he displayed a vulgar power just barely matched by his opposition, Tommy Hanson who was trying to give Bobby Cox his 2500th career win in our fucking house. Bullshit.

After innings and innings of cock-teasing baseball, back and forth and back an forth, the fucking bottom of the 8th rolls around and Chase Fucking Utley had just been beaned with the first pitch from atl reliever, Johnny Venters.

All of the yuppies and I cheered! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Up comes the Big Fucking Piece who's done fuck-all the entire game.

"Man, Howard's fucking due, he hasn't done fuck-all the entire game. He's gonna send one fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..."

Piece grounds right into a dp. Fuck my eyes our of my head.

Whatever, 2 outs with The Red-Hot Rooster stepping up. He's good for a smack or two these days. He's got 4 dingers in his last 5 games. Large balls, hairy.

Werth draws a battled walk off the atl farmhand which brings up everyone's favorite person name Raul, Raul Fucking Ibanez. If I could figure out how to place a nina over the "N" in his name I would definitely do it.

At this point my mind is fucking melting in terror. The bar is as tense as a freshmen waiting in the hall for (AIDS) test results and I'm clutching for dear life to the back of a bar stool. At this moment in time, there are no class divisions. The assholes around me turn from dickheads who keep Whole Foods in business to my fucking brother's in arms. We are one. We hate the fucking braves and we want Raul to fucking shove the next fucking pitch up their tomahawk chopping asses and send them back to their fucking shanties weeping like women.We want to fucking completely spoil their chances of winning the National League Eastern Division Title, a fucking award destined for the shelf of the Phillies Clubhouse. We want Bobby Cox and his crew of cockmoles to fucking get his milestone win in their own damn house on their own dam time. We want to fucking win the 10th game in a row. We want to sweep the fucking knaves in OUR FUCKING HOUSE for the first time since 2001. WE ALL WANT THE SAME THING. FUCKING DOMINANCE OF A TEAM THAT HAS PLAGUED US ALL SEASON LONG. FUCK THEM.

And then this fucking happened.......

Boo.The fuck. Yah.


Fucking Raul doubles off the chalk line in deep left field, Werth fucking scores and Lidge comes in AGAIN. And slams the fucking door. 1-0. A powerful victory. I was so excited that we all went to Shampoo for Goth night like we used to back in the day. Look!

Tonight we have a well deserved fucking night off. I'm gonna take a bath with candles and Depeche Mode. On the radio not in the bathtub with me. I prefer women. No, seriously. 

Our magic number is now 4 and we're 6 games up.

Fuck new york and Du Hast Mich.


Oh Phuck, almost forgot.....

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

September 21 2010 PHI v ATL Game 2. We Got Nem 20s, Yo

Well, F's, there it fucking is. Roy Fucking Halladay. 20 Wins. The first Phils' starter since Lefty did it back in '82. I was there, my son was there, the moon and the stars were there, the braves where there and--most importantly--their ineptitude was there. The Doc fiercely sliced through the competition with surgical precision not unlike Dr.Giggles to bring The Phucking Fightin' Phils 5 games above the sisterfuckers and inch us that much closer to a division title.

Halladeezy took hill at 7:05pm last night and immediately started to fuck rednecks up. 1-2-3 went the first and it was fucking clear that Roy was taking no shit from any turdlike human shape in a grey and maroon uni from the place where they make you dance your way out of gang rape.

After innings of dominance, Doc did seem to have some trouble hitting his spots come the 5th and 6th inning with runs starting to trickle onto the board. A few lead-off walks and deep counts had the crowd gasping in fear. I'm not trying to diminish his large-cocked feat with WIP-esque detractor drivel. I'm merely giving you, My Loyal Followers, my honest observations. Fuck, the man went 7, whiffed 3, walked 2 and gave up a 3 spot. For any other pitcher this would probably be called "a good night" but I sensed a bit of sweat on the brow of the workhorse. It must be quite the load to carry when walking 2 men in 7 innings is akin to the fucking Yeti walking across the field. It's been a long year and he's fucking carried this club with square shoulders, it's not out of the question that he may be a tad winded this late in the stretch. I think we all, my self included, expect too much from him.

 Still, the man being the professional that he is steadied himself and fucking shoved it far up the asses of the cox gang to pave the way to fucking victory. Large testicles.

Jayson Fucking Werth continued his recent trend of slaying vagina pitching last night in the 3rd inning when he broke the scoreboard's cherry and bashed a 3-fucking-run load deep into the seats in left-center. He must be packing on the fucking pounds lately after pounding down all the fucking hoagies. HEEEEEEEEEAAAAT, MOTHERFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKER! Sex. 

Not that I'm gonna starve my man, Ra-Fucking-ul Ibanez, over here either. His 2 double night  and 2 RBI's in the 7th gave us a nice cozy 5 runs in the 6th. Anyone who was talking about trading this big-beasted ballbag motherfucker back in June should be eating a large bowl of crow dicks right now.

We got a deece 8th inning from Mad Dog with a fucking most crucial inning ending dp ball that opened the door for the sexecutioner, Brad To The Fucking Bone Lidge, to come back for more ravaging of the 9th inning guts. He wet the oppositions dork a little by giving up a lead off base-knock to Derrick Lee but made quick fucking work of the useless fuckin' foes that stood before him. He raised the fucking axe................and down it fucking came on the heads of Nate McLouth, Alex Gonzales, and Rick Wankiel to finish off the show and bring us 5 Phucking games above atl in the division. Boo what?


Here's a photo of your future boss, JSIV. Awwwwwwwww. Don't let this photo fool you, he's a savage motherfucker. Look at him trying to eat that sign that I spent 20 minutes making. What in ingrate. One day when he's old enough to understand, I'll go into his dungeon and tell him about the time we saw Roy Fucking Halladay win his 20th game his first season as a Fightin's. He will then break his chains and snap my neck.

We got big bad buckshooting Roy Oswalt on the fucking hill tonight vs. Tommy Hanson. This is almost finally a fair match-up. Hanson has been good on the road since the break and Os has won his last 7/10 starts. Os is a beast, I'm ready.

I will not be attending tonight's series finale but contributor and Philly punk legend, Chuck Meehate will be in the 400s. I'm not about to blow up his spot and give you his exact location. It would be a fucking zoo...

Fuck new york and sign me a song, you're the piano man and a shitty mets fan.


Tuesday, September 21, 2010

September 20 2010 PHI v ATL Game 1. And It Has Begun, DUN DUN

Good morning, Followers. Daddy's a little hungover right now. Not that I particularly drank all that much last night, I'm seriously still ringing from all the fucking dollar dogs I punched down my greedy little throat as I watched The Phucking Men stand behind Cole MF Hamels in defiance to slavery, nascar and falling asleep with your dog, Skeeter, underneath the truck. A 3-1 victorious ball-tickler for The Fightin's to get this 3 game nerve destroyer against the knaves started was more than enough to induce rampant gluttony and mild alcohol consumption by your Editor.

Cole Motherfucking Hamels came to the party with a keg of nuts and the sack to use them last night, F's. 8 strong fucking inning, 6 hits, 6 K and 1 motherfucking run for the MAN from California. He had a shaky 2nd inning giving up a single to Derrick Lee and then an off-the-wall RBI double to Brain McCann but quickly shut that fucking semenfest down by fanning Alex Gonzales and then getting Melky Cabrera to ground into a dp. That seems like the entire story of the night. Cole would battle, if he lost he wouldn't fucking cry like a pudsmacking freshman, he'd fucking get the next batsman to just fuck himself and his fellow teammate over with a sweet, sweet pumpkin pie dp ball. Like I said, MAN.

The runs last night came at a premium, even off rookie frosh meat Brandon Beachy who took Jair Jurrgens' spot after being diagnosed with a boo-boo.

Ryan Fucking Howard lead off the 2nd a double down the right field line and then a few fucking batters later my boy Chooch steps up and send a liner cursing into left. 1-1. Booyah.

Things stayed relativley quiet unitl the 5th when Shane Fucking Victorino lead off with what seemingly was a sure line-out to Jayson Heyward. Well, sometimes you gotta take the presents you're handed because that seemingly routine liner turned into a botched catch and fucking 3 base error. It didn't take long for Fucking Polly to ground-out and force him home. 2-1.

Chutley came with sackazoid like steel and shot one into center immediately to get the bases on there way to being filled again. Howard was intentionally walked, Werth not so intentionally walked and then my boy RAUUUUUUUUUL came in for the grounder RBI to give The Men With Sacks a niooooooooce 3 to fucking 1 lead.

This fucking happened again:

I made a sign to bring to the game and until about the 7th inning I thought my toil would go unnoticed. every fucking dingleberry on his grandmother were getting face time on that fucking jumbo tron and I had a work of pure genius in my hands but still was getting the shaft. Fucking some dick dressed in a swamp thing outfit, douchebags in green body suits, old people. What the fuck?

Just as I was losing hope a very large man with a camera on his shoulders walked down my and stood in front of my and told me to wait. He was waiting for the bobblehead race to finish and then I would get my chance.

Then as the grey bobblehead fucking won he say to me "Nah, they don't want it." and peaced the fuck out down the aisle.

What the fuck? Can't you read? This shit is genius! Ahhhh, the White Fucking Whale gets away again. I just settled for what Brad Lidge did in the 9th.

Motherfucker came in and was ICING pricks. He strikes out wunderkind Jayson Heyward on 3 seriously filthy pitches, gets Martin Prado to fly-out to left and then fucking smokes Derrick Lee with a slider for the fan and that's the fucking ballgame! 3-1 and the Phils are sitting 4 games above the knaves. I feel crazy/sexy/cool.

I'll be in section 135 tonight if any of you sex freaks wants to come get a beer or meet your future boss, JSIV. Halladeezy goes for 20 tonight. I am thoroughly pumped.

Fuck new york and shut the fuck up, John Schuerholtz.


Monday, September 20, 2010

September 19 2010 PHI v WSH Game 3. Never Surrender

I don't even know how to fucking approach this one, F's. I still feel like I'm on fucking pcp. If there are typos today fuck it, there always are. I don't proof read. I was gonna go with the whole "What happened, I left in the 8th" angle but that would be stupid, I wasn't even there.

Then I was gonna just fucking ignore it for a few sentences and then write about it IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I'M FUCKING EXCITED!!!!!" bullshit but I've done that booollshit before so I'm just gonna cut the shit and get down to the bull's balls.Oh fuck it....


It was pretty fucking awesome. Jayson Fucking Werth grabs the bull by the dick and bashes the life out of a 3-2 pitch, capping a second consecutive sweep with his walk-off 2-run jizz-jolt into deep centerfield. Look at the fucking stage dive he does into The Men waiting in desperation to embrace The Beard. This shit looks like a Pearl Jam concert minus all the dickheads.

It's funny, after this game the reports that Rooster had signed with Scott Boras to represent him in his FA golden goose hunt. This basically means bye-bye Werth, hello loneliness but whatever. A man's gotta eat. It's not like Ross Gload is leaving and to be completely honest with you F's... I don't think Werth had shit to do with yestersday's win*. I think it was all this little broad's doing:

Would you look at this chick? The Human Rally Towel they call her. I talked to one of my inside sources at the park who tells me this lovable scamp shows up quite frequently to CBP dressed in this genius attire. Who is she? She has a fucking facebook page dedicated to her that was started maaaaaaaaaaybe 45 seconds after Werth smoked that shot. Is she single? I have friends. Is she American? Can she speak English? I want an interview with the Human Rally Towel. I wonder if she'll be at any of these braves games. I'll be at tonight's and Tuesday's game. Serction 136, HRT if you're interested.

Seriously, how many of you thought it was all over in the 8th? Come on don't be a pussy. I was fucking pissed in the 6th, I'm not gonna lie. I walk in from my Olde Timey Baseball game with contributor Scott and the first fucking thing I see is Blanton give up the 3 run homer to Mike Morse. I was so shitty with him. It felt like Blanton had just come and shit on my birthday cake. It was all "Fuck shit cocksucker pisspenisfucker blah blah blah.." like I usually am in those situations. I am passionated, people. I curse a lot and I hurt when we lose. Don't fucking judge me, I love this team. I and the rest of the Phillie Broadcast Team thought that yesterday might be one of those days. You know, when the hits just fucking don't some with RISP. It happens. I wasn't even mad about the fact that we might lose. I was all peachy going into the knaves series 2 games up. Fuck, Chollie even brought in Danys Baez, the ultimate white flag. He gave up a homerun. Eessssh. Then Romero comes in and gives up a 2 outter..... 6-3 with one chance left but still I never felt truly out of it. I had padded my heart with pessimism but still held hope like I fucking always do. You never give up on these pricks. You can't. Because just when you do you miss something like this. A 4 run bottom 9 and you feel shame like the douche you are. Get mad, curse at the pitcher, do what the fuck ever makes you feel better but don't fucking give up. You know I haven't turned off a Phillies game all year, even the truly shit ones back in May and June. Yeah, I sat through those games in Boston where Moyer and Blanton got bombed. I sat through Pirates games that we refused to hit in. Maybe it was the absence+distance equation but even so, I never can actually just walk away from a game. I feel like a traitor. Listen to me. Fuck this, PHIL'S WIN! NEVER SURRENDER! BRING ON THE FUCKING knaves!!!!! THIS IS TOTAL FUCKING WAR!

Fuck new york and love the one you're with. Yesterday's win was huge. Everyone contributed. You can't forget that Polly and Chutley got that rally started and that Big Piece brought in the first 2 runs to open the door for Werth. Brian Schneider has a 3-hot day yesterday. Blanton gave it his best, Baez and Romero put in effort and newbie Vance Worley had a great, clean 9th. We are one. All of us. Let's fucking destroy every filthy shit that gets in our way. Coach Sharkey wants you to know that you are the best.


* I kid, I kid!

PS I Love you.


Sunday, September 19, 2010

September 18 2010 PHI v WSH Game 2. More Bashing More Slashing

You know, Followers, when Kyle Kendrick took the hill last night and started to fucking toss his little brand of homerun derby ball I thought we were fucking sunk. I'm sitting in my reclining chair with a beer barely dented and he gives up a single. Then a fucking triple. Then he hits Ryan Zimmerman. I almost lost my fucking mind. I believe my mother, who was visiting, put it best. "What the fuck is this girl doing?!"

But then  Rich Dubee went out there and probably said something to similar effect and something sorta changed in ol' KK's game. He started to pitch like someone who could one day have a fully developed set of testicles and struck out the next 2 batters. Sure he walked the bases loaded but he still got out of a fucking potential buttfucking from a sub .500 team and pretty much stayed sharp for the remainder of his 6 inning outing. 2 earned runs, a half dozen hits. Fuck, that's better than anyone expected.

After Kyle's first shit inning the boys set to work with peckers of power, lifting many small balls with a bat over a wall far away from where they were standing.

Rooster walloped the dick off one of the nats' Jordan Zimmerman's goofballs to get the party started in the 2nd, sending it fucking barreling into the cosmos of left field seats. Werth's kinda been fucking great lately. Maybe he realized what fucking month it was.

Exxon Fucking Valdez, who had another fucking 3 hit night, double in Raul just shortly after Werth went yard for run number 2. This beautiful goatee'd fucker has been blazing across CBP like a fucking bushfire through a horny teen's mind. By bush I mean vagina hair. He's hot shit. This is seriously the best phot I could find of Wilson. Fucking a shame.

The very next inning someone named THE FUCKING BIG PIECE set himself an adorable little record when he fucking wrecking the shit out of the small ball over the left field wall, a 2-run load sending Chutley --who singled to get on just prior-- home with him. That was homer 30 for Howard, completing his 5th consecutive 30 HR 100 RBI campaign, a club record now forever in the annals of fucking cockmans legends. Piece, all of us at TBSS forever fucking salute you!


Someone must've been green with envy after the Piece set his record and wanted a little Phanfare of his own because before you could even wipe your mouth off, RAUL FUCKING IBANEZ crushed one in the exact same spot Howard's ball fell. More like Raul Fucking IBOOYAH!

All those hairy nut bangers added up to 5 which was fucking enough to silence the nats and their 2 meager runs and 40 relief pitchers. Still I see the nats fucking towering over the useless fucking asshole up in flushing next season. I watched those worthless shitheads try to fight off the knaves and their wild 4 run attack but fucking watching the mets these days is like watching a nursing home orgy. Sad, lazy fucking. Mostly unsuccessful. Well, I honestly think old people screwing is more fulfilling entertainment but I just wanted to use that analogy. Fuck you.  It still would be nice if they could just fucking win 1 game so we could ostensibly have the knaves walk into town with a 4 game deficit but I really think that's asking too much of Santa after the year they've had. A bunch of assaulters and leg-jizzers in that clubhouse.

Today I'm going to attend contributor Scott's olde timey baseball game in Fairmont park. I am prepared to watch portly men with their funny moustaches in 40 lb wool uniforms sweating their sanity away as I drink beer with my 4 month old. It's all brought to you by the Philadelphia Vintage Baseball Committee.  

It's also the Bring Your A's Game meet and greet picnic. BYAG is the initiative to have the Atheletics franchise moved back to its original home of Philadelphia. Yeah, I know. Cue the old bloke from The Castle. "AHHH TELL 'EM HE'S DREEEEAMIN'!!" . Nevertheless you scrubbers should all come down today. Fuck it, I'm into a 2 team town again. Let's do this shit.

Fuck new york and would you please just fucking win once, you drooling fuck knuckles!


Saturday, September 18, 2010

September 17 2010 PHI v WSH Game 1. Oswalt Out For Blood

I'd like to think that the last 8 Roy Oswalt starts in a Phillies uni has fully quashed the whole Lee vs Oswalt debate. All the facebook pages and all the comment vagina virgins can rest easy now that Oswalt has shown his true worth in the city of the good and right. Yes, Cliff Lee was a fucking hell of a man with a hell of a pitch but who the fuck is wearing the P and who's losing a pint of sweat a night down in Arlington? No sense in jerking-off to the ace of out bedroom's past when we can stick our big fat collective prick right in it with glorious revelry and be fully grateful for what we've got here in the fucking now.

Last night Roy Oswalt won his 7th start last night. The MLB network told me that he's the first pitcher since 1912 to fucking win 7 out of 8 starts after joining a team mid-season. That's a retarded statistic but it still impressed me. Sometimes I'm very easy. If you would've asked me for a good Oswalt fact I probably would've just told you he was fucking awesome. 

6 inning pitched, 1 earned run, 1 happy fucking crowd of Phaithful. Putting in his hours, a working man. He even ripped the fucking dick off the ball for an RBI in the first. Doing it.

But fuck, Followers, it's not like he did it alone. After giving up his one and only run in the first he got a cornucopia aka buttfucking avalanche of runs in the bottom frame. I can't be fucked going through the 90 hits and every fat umpire that got in the way because it's Saturday and I am a busy man but listen to me when I say this; We are on fucking fire. The Phils have scored 70 fucking runs over the last 10 games. That's good, right? The sleepers are awakening and the mainstay rocks like Choochie and Valdez are keeping the usual work load. Werth is getting his shit together and knocking off the streaky shit. Big Piece, Chutley, Vic, Polly, RAUL! Fuck, I'm being hyperbolic but If someone is going to beat us they are going to have to fucking bring the serious nutload. No fluky shit, we're here for a Phight and if you think we're gonna hand you a gift wrapped penis pump you've got another thing coming. 

I feel great. Now I have to go to babies r us and buy a new crib for my son. The act is enjoyable but my surroundings will cause rage. Fuck that giraffe, I'm a Kiddie City kid, motherfucker. Fuck new york for being losers and sky rockets in flight (wwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrnnn) afternoon delight.