First, a confession: I didn’t watch a second of yesterday’s game. I was drinking, gambling, getting all mussed up with women of questionable reputation, making an ass of myself as only I can. It was gorgeous and disturbing all at once. Now I’m broke, hungover and, one could argue, less intelligent than I was 24 hours ago. Skimming through the lowlights on TiVo, I realize watching the game may well have had the same effect on me. Man, this thing was so ugly the tide wouldn’t take it out. See that photo up there? That sums it up nicely. They look pained. Undernourished. Flitting lazily between the real world and somewhere east of Sleepytown. Curt, in fact, may well be unconscious. Or is he secretly wishing a pox on Julian Tavarez? Or that Mike Timlin can be retro-fitted with steel parts and flung back into the bullpen where we need him most? We’ll never know.
But this we can agree on: the past couple games have seen our offense simply kiboshed. As the AP tells us, the first four hitters in the lineup — Crisp, Loretta, Ortiz and Ramirez — combined to go 0-for-14 on Saturday and are just 3-for-28 with no extra-base hits and two RBIs through the first two games of this series. Man, that’s the wrong answer.
So from the comfort of my bed, with the blinds still drawn and the Sunday paper gathering moss outside in the driveway, I pray that the hitters start hitting, Manny gets back to being Manny, Tito is struck dumb with amnesia every time he hits the bullpen phone to activate Tavarez, and Clement can somehow fit himself for the big pants this afternoon.
Now, more than ever, we need these things.
Amen.
