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.....

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