The Umpire Smokes Crack

I watched last night's game in a beer-soaked haze, and it took about a half day's worth of conversations before I could separate what actually happened from what I went to bed thinking was a product of my drunk imagination. Imagine my surprise when I found that game 2 would have been equally surreal had I been drinking Dasani instead of High Life.

Is it really possible that we could get the leadoff man on and fail to score in 6 out of 9 innings? That are hitters would continue to impersonate the spring training version of Pedro Cerrano whenever a runner appeared on base? That the wave of an umpire's hand could magically transform a strikeout into a walk and a hit batsman into an out at crucial junctures of the game?

Now, to be fair - last night's loss was not Kerwin Danley's fault. We lost because J. Willem DaWerth made an error, because the TB Gays got runners home when they needed to, and because our clutch hitting suddenly went the way of John McCain's dignity. Still; fuck you Kerwin Danley. Fuck you right in the ass with a square dildo.

That all being said, we did what we set out to do: win one game in Tampa. That we wasted an opportunity to win two sucks ass. That we won't get swept in the series is awesome. That we'll play the next three games in an environment where our hitters can actually pick up the ball (I'm looking at you, Greg Dobbs), and where 45,000 of the Philly faithful will be backing us up, and where Pat the (Rubber) Glove can get his usual Friday night fisting, and where I have tickets to games 4 and 5, is equally, if not slightly more awesome. I'm not euphoric, but I'm feeling good.

GO PHILZ.