Phillies Pitching: What Happened to The Six Million Dollar Man?

Pitching.

 

It’s a simple word with a simple concept: throw the ball into the zone.

 

Antonio Bastardo was going for his third consecutive win by a pitcher just up from the minors but it must have been too much pressure. Like Jamie Moyer’s elusive 250th win, sometimes it’s not what you’re throwing but what’s on your mind.

 

Pitching is one part mental, and as Charlie Manuel says about Bastardo, “… that’s a confidence thing.” Charlie thinks he’ll rebound from his Saturday night one-inning disaster, even if some Phil’s fans won’t.

 

And pitching is also one part mechanical. As we’ve seen with Brad Lidge, the slightest compensation in mechanics is all it takes to tweak a 95 mile an hour pitch into a blown save.

 

But the whole conglomeration of throwing a baseball can be summed up in what’s commonly called “stuff.” And sometimes a pitcher just doesn’t have it.

 

Saturday night Bastardo was missing his stuff while Chad Durbin found it for three amazing innings. Jack Taschner may never have the right stuff, Sergio Escalona looked scared of the Red Sox stuff, Clay Condrey threw consistent stuff, and J.C. Romero spent his stint on the mound mumbling to his alter ego about stuff.

 

Maybe the problem is, we need to go shopping for more “stuff.”  I’ll help. I can smell real leather selling for a genuine leather price from a mall away.

 

First we’ll start at Goodwill. Hey, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Look at last year’s bargain find, Joe Blanton. He had an unremarkable 4.96 ERA in 2008 with the A’s before he was acquired. But we all know why Pat Gillick bought him. Adam Eaton had his money in the bank and his eye on a tropical island, and Brett Myers was camping out in minor league trying to find his Zen.

 

But Blanton was definitely a find. Joining the Phillies fired him up like a knock-off Gucci purse on a poor girl. And I’m sure the “closed-eye home run” wasn’t on his resume, but sometimes – like a blue-light special – it’s about finding the right stuff at the right time.

 

Last year, Joe Lumber ate up innings and went deep into counts in route to the World Series Championship. Simply put, Joe’s a workhorse. I’ve even heard the Amish are looking at him.

 

And last year Brett Myers found his stuff. But this year his mojo is locked up in an arm that’s out of commission. But what if someone else uncovers some undiscovered stuff just like Indiana Jones? Jones is an old man. What if Jamie Moyer finds the pitching Arc of the Covenant out there somewhere?

 

My husband says it’s too late to look. That’s something that should’ve been addressed in the off-season. You can’t wait until it snows to find a pair of Uggs. And you can’t tackle someone on the street to steal boots. Well, actually you can. But the police will take a nice portrait of you if you do.

 

But in lieu of waiting for the discovery of an alleged long-lost artifact, Ruben Amaro has prepared a wish list. Actually it’s a “pitch list.” The problem is he’s strapped for cash, and I don’t think the limit on the MLB credit card is $50 million. I don’t know if Ruby has the net worth to get someone phenomenal, even if Roy Halladay works through his pesky groin pull and Jake Peavy recovers from his “ankle virus.”

 

And my fear is Shane Victorino and Jayson Werth will be first on the auction block, especially with top prospects Jason Donald and Lou Marson on the disabled list.

 

But look on the bright side. If my favorite right fielder’s the one to go, my Jayson Werth blanket will be that much more valuable. But I don’t know what will replace the smilin’ Hawaiian’s hustle.

 

Like a super coupon that’s expired, it’s too painful to think about.

 

So, Ruby’s desperate for a bargain. And he’s stalking the discount racks. But there’s no reason to knock down someone to get one. Trust me, you won’t get invited back.

 

Maybe what we need is to look into our closet again. Maybe Phil’s pitching isn’t “so last year.” Or maybe it is, but is that such a bad thing? The pennant was won by pitching that resembled a good magic act—it was much better in the second half of the show.

 

We’re thinking we need someone who’s six feet tall and bulletproof because what we have is six feet plus and quite flimsy.

 

I disagree. Every dog has his day. On a bad one, my “man’s best friend” dumps his stuff right there on the sidewalk. How embarrassing, right?

 

Well, it’s not good to hold back a bodily function. But we all don’t have to stare at it. Just clean it up and move on.

 

Ruben Amaro, Jr. will do what he can based on who’s for sale, what’s in his wallet, and who he doesn’t mind trading.

 

Hey, has he checked EBay? I heard there’s a great replica of the Holy Mother on a grilled cheese up for grabs.

 

And it’s lunch time.

 

But that’s a hell of a price to pay for something that’s here today, gone tomorrow.

 

Be careful what you wish, for you shall get it.

 

Or maybe, like my husband says, I’m like a washing machine—I just go round and round and agitate people.

 

In any case, I’ll see you at the ballpark.

 

Phillies-Red Sox Game One: Women Umpires in Baseball?

Umpires always have the option of confirming a call with their crew, they also have the option of reviewing a home run call with instant replay, but they sometimes don’t.

 

That’s why I should be an umpire.

 

First of all, I’d wear a little pink. Maybe I’d swipe a streak across my lips or just pin a breast cancer awareness ribbon on my chest.

 

No, not on my chest. There’s no reason to call attention to there. Maybe on my sleeve, like where the Phillies 2008 World Champion patch is.

 

Then before each batter, I’d remind myself that you can’t actually touch the players.

 

Then I’d remember that this is major league baseball, it doesn’t get any bigger than this.

What’s the harm in asking for some help?

 

The problem boils down to one thing: men asking for directions.

 

Yup. That’s why I propose woman umpires in baseball. We like to keep everyone happy, we bake, and we don’t mind asking for help. Sometimes we even look pretty good doing it.

 

And if the league’s not considering my proposal for cheerleaders, I think woman umpires would dress the game up a bit.

 

I’m applying. Then I’d fill both voids. I’d stand behind the plate and make great calls, and emphasize my decision with pom-poms, so even if I made a bad one, my cheer would be so entertaining, no one would argue.

 

Maybe it’d even bring a smile to Chase Utley’s face.

 

Maybe it’d even bring a smile to yours.

 

How about those Phils?

 

They can go neck-to-neck with the best, but they forgot where the finish line was. Last night’s game was like Mine That Bird and Rachel Alexandra running a horse race until one of them just gave up.

 

The BoSox started the marathon with Jon Lester. His performance was a lot like his season—it took him awhile to settle in. But after allowing an RBI in the second, he retired 17 of the last 18 batters he faced. Then the Phils went head-to-head with the best bullpen in baseball.

 

At times it seemed more like target practice with three HBP putting runners on base for the home team, but even with Ryan Howard’s 19th home run of the season and Greg Dobb’s debatable foul dinger in the 11th with two on, the Phillies failed to come back to win.

 

It was a game laden with double digits: 34 strikeouts and 16 hits shared by 12 pitchers, and I counted 19 runners stranded over 13 innings in front of the 21st sellout crowd of the season.

 

Kyle Kendrick made his first major league pitching appearance since his spring training demotion to the minors. He retired three straight in the 12th, but was the 13th his last?

 

He allowed two consecutive hits and then walked a batter to load the bases before the RBI started rolling in. Three runs later, he crawled back to the bench. I know the bullpen was running out of options, but Kendrick’s not a strikeout pitcher. It’s no wonder the game got away from him.

 

I bet Charlie Manuel is wondering if giving Clay Condrey or Ryan Madson a second inning would have been wiser than letting the new kid take two, especially since Madson is scoreless in 24 of his last 25 appearances.

 

The Phils might have lost, but three consecutive extra inning games is a bunch of play. That much baseball is like a love enhancing drug. I feel like I overdosed.

 

But I’m hooked and I can’t wait to do it again tonight; even though I’m hung-over.

 

But like I always say, phight phire with phire.

 

See you at the ballpark.

 

Phillies-Mets Finale: Finally an Allegation Confession

Well, Raul Ibanez isn’t on performance enhancing drugs—he is a performance enhancing drug.

 

The Phillies won two of three in the series with the Mets and held an archrival to three runs on nine hits. That’s the same number the Phillies used to score six.

 

What does it take to do that?

 

Defense. And Raul was a large part of that. He leads the team in outfield assists with six, driving the total for the three starting fielders to 10. He applies effort and hustle to every putout, slide, or dive, and is one of the men responsible for that MLB leading fielding percentage.

 

And in the sprawling greenery of Citi Field, Ibanez completed the outfield trinity with Shane Victorino and Jayson Werth like a great set of Goodrich tires—we get a lot of mileage out of them. And if you buy three, you get the fourth free.

 

I’m sorry, that’s at Pep Boys. My mistake.

 

But you need more than just fancy footwork to beat a team that’s always vying for you. 

 

What else does it take?

 

Offense. And Raul was a large part of that. He leads the team in runs, hits, home runs, RBI, total bases, slugging percentage, and batting average.

 

But last night he was a miserable 0 for 4, and had ended three innings with an out until he faced Mets’ veteran, Takahashi, in the 10th. With two men on, two outs, and the Phils 0 for 7 with runners in scoring position, he took a stand and cried, “No more!”

 

I’m sorry, I’m just alleging he said that.  I don’t have anything to back that up.  But do you think that would get me on ESPN?

 

Probably not. I root for the National League.

 

Where was I? Oh, yeah, Raul. Then on a 1-1 count, he slammed a changeup 400 feet over the centerfield wall to clear the bases with a three-run dinger. That earned him the WB Mason “Delivery of the Game,” the Chevrolet “Player of the Game,” and a huge spread in my Phillies “Playmate of the Game” calendar.

 

Afterwards, Mitch Williams admitted that he had alleged that the initial acquisition of Raul Ibanez was a bad management decision.  Then he apologized.

 

Is that a confession?!

 

Is that a confession of an allegation?!

 

How come Mitch doesn’t get on ESPN?

 

That’s right, he played for the National League.

 

I heard Wall Street calculated how much Raul would have to cough up if he actually tested positive for PEDs, and had to hold true to his pledge to give back everything he’d earned in the MLB.

 

How much?

 

Well, the article didn’t allege that, but I’ll bet the derivatives market has odds set on the outcome of his test. And I’ll bet Pete Rose has a lot riding on it.

 

Wait. Did I just allege that Pete Rose has allegedly bet on the Raul Ibanez PED allegation?

 

That’s awesome! Will that get me on ESPN?

 

Probably not. Pete Rose got kicked out of the National League.

 

Anyway, let’s hear it for Jamie Moyer. He faced a team that dreams of his little league fastball and held them to three earned runs while throwing almost 67% of his pitches for strikes.

 

That’s due in part to an umpire who was giving away the corners. Actually I’m going to start calling Moyer, “Jamie Corner.” I’ll pretend he’s that “Little Jack” sitting in a corner eating a Christmas Pie doing something creative with his thumb. Then I’ll play Little Miss Muffet and eat my curds and get way horny…

 

I’m so sorry, was I thinking out loud?

 

Wait a minute. Was I just alleging that Jamie Moyer makes me horny? Is that a performance enhancing drug confession?

 

Finally, I’ve found some way to end this entire performance enhancing mess by tying this Ibanez allegation disaster together with sex.

 

Whew, I’m tired and I need a cigarette.

 

And I don’t even smoke.

 

See you at the ballpark.

 

Phillies-Mets: Pssst, Here’s Another Allegation

Goodness, gracious.

 

A blogger from Midwest Sports Fans has set the sports world on fire. Little Jerrod Morris dared to contend that Raul Ibanez is taking performing enhancing drugs.

 

Well, the insinuation is false, but “serious journalists” chose to make an example of how dangerous false allegations from feral bloggers can be by trying to make an example of him. 

 

First, remember, serious journalists in Philly have never made a ridiculous allegation—Manny Ramirez was seriously trying to get pregnant.

 

Second, print journalism is failing at the hands of the internet, so what a great opportunity to call attention to the dangers of making news and opinions available to an astounding number of people with a keystroke.

 

It’s almost as if they think the general public doesn’t have a brain.

 

OK, we did re-elect George W. Bush—but that was before those feral news shows like The Daily Show gave us the opportunity to see him speak. 

 

I think Jerrod just said it for attention. We all know successful blogs are high on read count and comments—not particularly content. But this guy proved that when you insult the Phillies’ golden child, you can have it all.

 

Hey, I’m an unknown blogger. Maybe I’ll make my own allegation. Let me think. I need something controversial enough to get reads yet perverse enough to fill my inbox with wrath. 

 

OK, here it is:

 

Charlie Manuel is on performance enhancing drugs. Yup. You heard it here first. There’s no other way to explain how his significant other of 20-something years has stayed by his side without a marriage proposal.

 

Seriously though, Charlie Manuel on PEDs? I don’t think so. You’d be closer to the truth to claim he and Raul are on PEZ. They probably pop the little candies from a dispenser with Charlie’s bobblehead on it.

 

I would. Maybe those dispensers would be worth more on EBay than a corn flake shaped like the Christ child.

 

Enough of that. Let’s talk about that incredible game last night!

 

If Citi Field is a pitcher’s park, then it belongs to pitchers who like to see hits whizzing by.

 

Make that 25 hits.

 

Make that a slugfest.

 

The Phillies started the game going up and down through innings like a lifeboat in the ocean. Pelfrey was redeeming himself from his nine-run fiasco against the Pirates and I was seasick. Even when Chase Utley hit a home run in the fourth inning to the exact same spot he hit one on Tuesday, it seemed like he simply kept us from suffering a shutout.

 

Then in the seventh, the Phils’ bats caught fire.

 

Now, the best thing about this was it stopped the Mets fans from “roostering”. You know what I mean—acting like big cocks with little brains.

 

The Phillies hit their way to first base five consecutive times, leaving the bases loaded between three batters before reliever Sean Green shut the inning down. But not before the game was tied at four.

 

Then JC Romero and Pedro Feliciano each pitched a scoreless eighth. 

 

In the ninth, to counter the predictably perfect storm of Francisco Rodriguez, Manuel put in pitching sensation Chan Ho Park.

 

Wait! Park?

 

Hold on. Let’s not make any more false allegations here.

 

Sorry, I can’t help myself. Rich Dubee is on the take! How the hell can you make it to 10th if your bullpen blows it in the ninth?

 

I simply held my breath. It’s amazing how I can’t swim underwater across an above ground pool but I can deprive my opinionated brain of oxygen for five whole batters. It’s remarkable what a lack of faith can do, especially when the first batter Park faced hit two grand slam home runs off him in one inning, in one game, when he pitched for the Dodgers.

 

My husband said it best: “What idiot would have pitched him against Tatis the second time?”

 

Here’s my question: “What idiot would pitch him against Tatis the third time?”

 

Now, to all those people who I’ve insulted by my incessant ripping of Park – I apologize.  I won’t say another bad thing about the right hander until he earns it.

 

Thanks for holding the game, Chan Ho.

 

And thanks for ending it, Chase Utley.

 

In the 11th, he hit his third dinger of the series over the same little eight-foot wall that juts from far right. They’re actually thinking of renaming it “Chase’s Space”.

 

And in Philadelphia, the win was as significant as Neil Armstrong’s historic first walk on the moon. “One big step for man, one giant step for the Phils.”

 

It was the first-ever Phils victory at Citi Field, thanks to another great bullpen inning by Ryan Madson who came in to close down the game in the 11th. You can’t allege anything about Ryan Madson, except he’s worth whatever his four-year contract paid.

 

Ryan earned the save—but Jayson Werth should have one by his name as well. His diving catch of the certain base hit by David Wright in the 10th was an athletic work of art.

 

The funniest thing was, Tom McCarthy was reviewing the WB Mason “Play of the Game,” which just so happened to be an earlier running snag by—you guessed it—Jayson Werth, when the strapping fielder knocked himself out of that status with an even better catch.

 

Those Jayson Werth Mother’s Day blanket coupons are fetching over a hundred dollars on EBay, but you won’t pry mine from my sinewy little hands for all the money in the world.

 

And you won’t pry my memories of that great game from the cells in my brain that remain.

 

What a great game.

 

What a great series.

 

This is what baseball is all about.

 

Go Phils!

Philadelphia Phillies-New York Mets Game One: Happy Hour Cancelled at Citi Field

There’s no Happ-y hour at Citi Field. 

 

JA Happ, the recent addition to the Phil’s starting rotation, barely lasted five innings and left pitches hanging that were twice hit over the fence in a park that used to brag an average of 1.4 dingers a game. 

 

That’s all changed. The Metropolitans and the Phil-billies combined to hit a total of seven home runs.

 

Four were taken from Johan Santana who was possibly the most unhittable starter in baseball—until last night. Ryan Howard and Raul Ibanez hit back-to-back dingers in the fourth, Jimmy Rollins hit a two-run shot in the sixth, and Chase Utley hit a solo HR in the eighth to add to the offensive highlights.

 

But JA Happ tarnished his season record by allowing four earned runs, three of which came from two homers. But the evening wasn’t complete until Chad Durbin, who my husband calls “Disturbin’ Durbin,” held true to his quest and allowed another dinger to soar. 

 

But with this 5-6 loss came some great defensive moments as well. 

 

First, Raul the Great, played a Sheffield fly ball off the wall in the fifth and threw the aging athlete out on his attempt to stretch it to a double.  That play earned Raul his fourth outfield assist of the season as a bunch more votes in the All-Star balloting were cast for “Ibanez.” 

 

Then Carlos Ruiz tried so hard to tag Tatis out at home that the umpire gave him an “A” for effort as well as the first out in the sixth.

 

I’m so glad instant replay in the MLB is only applicable to home run calls because the fans in the stands made it clear Carlos missed the tag on the Fanavision replay.

 

Those “boooos” weren’t “Raaauuuuuls.”

 

Oh, well.  One for us.  Then one for them: Santana hit what they’re calling a “slug-bunt double.” 

 

I’m not sure what that is except maybe it’s a fake bunt attempt that turns into a slug attempt.  Or it’s a fake bunt hitter who turns into a surprise slugger.  Or maybe it’s a batter with an .068 average who hits a surprising double. In any case, the Mets got restitution for the bad call at the plate.

 

Well, maybe not completely.  Johan and the gang went on to score two runs while facing Clay Condrey. 

 

That prompted my husband to coin a new term for what the Phil’s bullpen sometimes does—jack-assing.

 

Hey, we’ve all been known to represent that from time-to-time.

 

Then came the ninth. With pitching sensation, K-Rod, up to close, the chance to at least tie the game seemed remote. But when Jimmy Rollins slammed a single off the man who is perfect in saves this season, victory seemed within reach.

 

Especially when Matt Stairs stepped in to pinch hit for Carlos Ruiz. 

 

Wait, for Carlos?  Isn’t he hitting over .300?  What the…?!  Okay, I understand that he was 0 for 3 to that point and he only added a number to his stats in the “error” category, but Charlie… have you no faith?

 

Nope.  Charlie wrote the “Manuel” on ballplayers, and with Matt back from watching his daughter graduate, one thing was certain—they fed him well. 

 

He hit a ground ball that was sure to initiate a double play until J Ro knocked out the fielder at second and caused the throw to arrive late.  And with Matt running, you can imagine how much time Jimmy had to buy. 

 

I know! Matt has never won a footrace, even against the Comcast turtles! Give Jimmy an “A” for stalling.

 

And give J Ro a triple-A for being the leading hitter for the Phillies from the sixth spot in the lineup.  You can’t argue Charlie’s intention there. Since he demoted Jimmy from lead-off, he’s had five hits in two games.  Last night he was 3 for 4 with 2 RBI and a run.

 

And that’s against Johan Santana who I think was shaken and stirred.  Even with his pitch count at 91 with 71 strikes, he managed only two strikeouts. And the Phils stayed within one run of a team that absolutely, positively had to win or face banishment for getting swept in a series by the Pirates. 

 

Wow, Met fans are tough on their team, even when there’s a waiting list to get on their disabled list.

 

And did you hear? Manny broke his silence.

 

Personally, I think he escaped. And while he was loose, he was quoted in the LA Times as saying, “I didn’t kill nobody and I didn’t rape nobody.”

 

I’m glad he came forward, because I was waiting for a confession.

 

Wait. That wasn’t a confession. Let me read that again.

 

“I didn’t kill nobody and I didn’t rape nobody.”

 

There, I’m glad he said he was sorry for his actions.

 

Wait. That wasn’t an apology either. 

 

Then what the hell was he talking about?

 

I guess my problem is, I don’t speak Man-tics.

 

Manny may have redefined semantics, but I don’t care.

 

Today the Phillies will master the entire game, but there’s no shame in the way they played on Tuesday.

 

Go Phils!

The Phillies Had an Off Day: What a Good Time to Strip Down Jayson Werth

An off day is a great time to strip down to facts and do some thinking. You know Charlie Manuel was doing that on Monday, and since I have a lot of time on my hands too, you know one thing’s for certain: stripping down Phillies has crossed my mind.

 

Today I’m taking two completely different topics—both of which are popular with some B/R readers—and meshing them together in a way where one actually enhances the other.

 

No, I’m not talking about porn and food, although that would make for an interesting cooking show.

 

I’m talking about baseball and literature.

 

I’m talking about Jayson Werth and the Kama Sutra.

 

Wait, was I thinking out loud? I’m so sorry. I meant to say Jayson Werth and The Secret by Rhonda Byrne. (Gesh, how embarrassing.)

 

The Secret is a self-help book intended to describe in detail how to visualize your dreams and manifest your visions. It’s a “how to” guide to getting what you want. But it’s so much more than hoping what you believe will come true. It’s about believing it’s already happening.

 

You’re supposed to stimulate every single cell in your body to feel the realization of your dream in the present moment. You have to live as if you’ve realized your dream right now in order to manifest its realization in another moment.

 

Confusing?

 

Probably. Let me use an example.

 

Take Jayson Werth.

 

Please, someone say that to me again.

 

Take Jayson Werth.

 

Don’t mind if I do.

 

Okay, I’m done. Let’s just take him as an example. He’s a self-confessed offensive streaker. Trust me, I find nothing offensive about that right fielder streaking, but he’s realizing exactly what he believes: that he’s always been a streaking slumper.

 

He reported that he’s not concerned with his inability to consistently contribute to the Phil’s offense because this is the way he’s always been. And Charlie Manuel would warn against saying anything about it because to call attention to a good streak or a bad slump is only acknowledging its existence.

 

He’s right in one respect. A player on a hitting streak respects the streak; he wears the same underwear, abandons shaving, or hums the same song in the warm-up circle. But what if it was more than that? What if it was simply happening because he believed it was?

 

And what if you believe you’ll have streaks and slumps so you do?

 

Well, Jayson, I think it’s about time to believe something else. I think it’s about time you believe that you’ll consistently get on base. I think it’s about time you play the role of the bad boy again by stealing home plate. I think it’s about time you stopped playing like you’re a one-year contract man with nowhere to go but out. And I think it’s about time you thought of all those baseball babes out there who miss seeing you pose on base.

 

For Pete’s sake, Jayson, think of something other than your slump! Think about me!

 

Sorry, was I thinking out loud again?

 

I know what you’re thinking. What dream have I ever manifested?

 

You mean dreams that aren’t limited by those new stalker laws?

 

Well, okay, right now I’m working on eliminating that cellulite on my backside.

 

Is it working?

 

Let’s just say I’ve convinced every cell but my thighs. Perhaps this is truly something that will remain a dream (or concealed by jeans).

 

But don’t do what I do, do what I say.

 

And Jayson, I say you can do it.

 

Go Phils!

Phillies-Dodgers: Game Four Victory Was a Breath of Air Freshener

On Saturday night, the dead silence that crept into the room after our closer’s second blown save was stirred by a familiar sound. 

 

My son ripped a dinger like a pop from a cork gun. 

 

“Do you mind,” I whined. “I’m mourning here!”

 

It smelled like his gas passed by something dead.

 

Actually something did die, but it wasn’t stowed within the stinky confines of a 10-year-old.  It was the confidence in a man we call, “Lights Out Lidge.”

 

When it comes to his closer, Charlie Manuel must feel like a frat boy in the wee hours of the morning: drunk and desperate.  I’d hate to see him make a coyote-ugly decision but fortunately he wasn’t forced to Sunday night. Most improved pitcher of the game, Chan Ho Park, jogged in from the bullpen and did his job.

 

How hard was that?

 

Very, considering the drama that led up to it.

 

Park’s performance in the past rivaled a reality show. He was promised a shot at a rotation spot that he earned but couldn’t keep.  Then to make it clear he intended to start, he stunk in the bullpen too.

 

That type of reasoning defies common sense like the logic of the Octomom.  And Park’s pitching smelled like her diaper pail.

 

Like the suspense surrounding a surprisingly negative EPT, hopefully he’s put that drama behind him.

 

My sweet center fielder was back in form. “Shane” it great? Victorino stirred things up with his enthusiasm and his drive, promoting Dodger prejudice by going 2-for-5 to score once and drive in 2 RBI.

 

I missed his smile.

 

Do you get the feeling Carlos Ruiz is pretending he’s back in little league?  Yahoo Sports listed him as the Phil’s top batter of the game.  Yes, our Carlos Ruiz. His offensive success this season is as surprising as a cowboy at a debutant ball. His 2009 contract might imply that he doesn’t belong in the .300 club, but he doesn’t know that yet.

 

Like I tell my son when I ding a car in a parking lot, “Don’t say a word.”

 

Jimmy Rollins gets my most improved batter of the night. That doesn’t get him a page in my Phillie “Playmate of the Week” calendar, but he earns a big gold star.  The place it adorns will be shared privately.  

 

Joe Morgan of ESPN helped us discover why Jimmy has looked like he was shooting clay pigeons instead of getting base hits.  And as if Joe sent a message to the dugout, J Ro stepped to the plate and corrected the problem.

 

Maybe Jimmy will share his process with me. I have a lot of problems.  You’re reading about a few of them here.

 

Did you know Bill Lyons did a guest editorial in the Sunday Inquirer?  I miss Billy the Kid. It was a great column relishing in the celebration around Raul Ibanez. I love relish and I love celebrating. Bill might be a retired Inquirer columnist but he hasn’t lost his love for the Phillies.

 

Neither have I.  The Phightin’s split the series with possibly the best team in the majors.  The big question is: Could we have done it against Manny Ramirez? ESPN claims the Dodgers earn only another .7 runs per game with Man-tics by their side. If that’s the case, we’d have still split the series. Let’s see what power Manny has when he’s not ovulating.

 

And let’s not overlook that his replacement, Juan Pierre, hasn’t exactly made them easy to beat.  Also, Manny wasn’t the man who helped blow both saves.  I think the Phillies should pat themselves on the back for a job well done.

 

Tuesday, JA Happ goes up against the Met’s Johan Santana. You’d think ace against ace would be Cole Hamels versus the great Santana, but Happ-y’s quickly proving he belongs in the rotation. I don’t mean to discount King Cole’s complete game reign over the Dodgers, but he’s got some youngin’s nipping at his heals.

 

So, Tuesday marks the start of an intense series against a despicable foe.

 

Like I always say, “Fight nice, boys.”

 

Go Phils!

 

Philadelphia Phillies: To Warm Up On The Road, Try a Good Hot Flash

You can please all of the people none of the time, some of the people none of the time, and none of the people none of the time.

 

Wait, I think I screwed that up. Let me check my email again.

 

Nope, that’s right.

 

In the short time I’ve been posting on The Bleacher Report (moment of silence in respect), my almost 4,000 reads have yielded surprisingly few comments.  So when I received an email requesting that I delete a recent post, well… it surprised me like a pee shiver.

 

My article was, “Phillies-Padres: I Have A Good Joke For You,” and the reviewer let me know it was disrespectful and should be deleted because it was the top article on a Google News search about Chan Ho Park.

 

Well, you know what first crossed my mind.  MY ARTICLE WAS FIRST ON A GOOGLE NEWS SEARCH!!! WOOO HOOO!! THANK YOU BLEACHER REPORT!! Then I put my childishness aside and considered his words with all seriousness. And if you’ve ever read my blogs, you’ll know how hard that is for me.

 

But first, I couldn’t help but go to Google News and confirm my euphoria at being a top list on the internet. I know, I’m so bad. Jayson Werth, please punish me.

 

After my Jayson fantasy ended, I did a regular Google search on myself. 

 

Low and behold I found another fan. 

 

This time it was on the NBC Philadelphia site and my admirer was a journalist named Karen Araiza.  She seems so nice.  At first, it looked like she wrote an entire article on my entire article: “Philadelphia Phils vs. Atlanta Braves Recap: Un-Happy Mother’s Day.”

 

But then I discovered she wrote her article only to call attention to a single, small paragraph. And you know what paragraph she posted? Yup, one that cast my intention in an unpleasant light.

 

Here’s my misconstrued paragraph:

 

“But the most annoying thing about having so many women at the ball park is they don’t understand that it’s common courtesy to wait until the batter is through before you interrupt everyone in your row with your exit.  Whether you need to empty your bladder, perk your girls, or fluff your do, remember there are other people than you.”

 

Karen’s was a typical piece of journalism—she extruded a paragraph intended to emphasize baseball stadium etiquette, and used it to create a forum that made me out a sexist. This proved only one thing—she’s an angry elf.  It doesn’t surprise me.  I’ve known a lot of those people who love shoes but love more to play the victim. 

 

But there are intricacies about people that her article and the ensuing comments emphasized.  First, no one can laugh at women, especially a woman. It’s as taboo as the cat shitting in the kids’ sandbox. It’s uncouth to think anything we do is funny or make fun of us, even in the mildest of respects.

 

Unless you’re Madonna.

 

The second foible she revealed is, once you’ve taken someone’s message out of context, it’s okay to talk about them behind closed doors.  Now I know how Denis Leary felt when the New York Times took a paragraph from his new book out of context and crucified him for it.

 

Karen, I hope you’re reading.  I’d love to get together and chat about the whims of writing and womanhood. I quite enjoy them both. However, you wouldn’t know this because it felt better to create a piece of journalism that reported a misconstrued spot of sexism by one of your own then call attention to what this woman has really done: created a well-received humorous blog on The Bleacher Report without flaunting blond hair, big boobs, or youth.

 

I always said, if you don’t have anything nice to say, let me say it. Or just share it with me. Then let’s find a way to laugh about it.

 

If you don’t believe me, read one of my posts. Then send me an email right from the B/R site.  Yours doesn’t allow me to contact you directly, otherwise I would.

 

This baseball babe’s door is always open.  And I’ll leave the light on for you.

 

Peace.

 

Philadelphia Phillies: No Streaking Allowed at Dodger Stadium

The Phil’s streak was halted. I hate it when a fantasy comes to an end. That’s why I miss the 70’s. You can’t fault an era when everyone took it off and let it hang in the wind.

Now that’s an idea for a promotion at Citizens Bank Park—a different type of giveaway.  Trust me, when it comes to hot ballplayers, nothing excites me more than “giving it away,” but what if we didn’t “get” something?  What if we gave something up? 

What if they had retro night at the park and in honor of a lost era, we all took off our clothes? 

I know some young guys in section 145 who’ll be happy they sit in front of me instead of behind me.

Speaking of promotions, there’s a new piece of merchandise already circulating.  It’s a pretty plastic bracelet embedded with the initials: WWCD.

That’s cryptic for, “What Would Charlie Do?”

The Skipper has his work cut out for him, and he’s the one who has to steer the ship while the rest of us hold on and hurl.

Some of that hurling came in a slow, therapeutic form, like the pitching of Old Salty, Jamie Moyer. 

I don’t think the Pedro Feliz error that gave the Dodgers four outs in the ninth was completely his fault. Jamie Moyer tossed his slow ball by them for seven successful innings with such consistency, it was like watching fish.

I think Pedro was hypnotized—I know I was. But the phrase that snapped me back to reality was, “Brad Lidge.” 

After four great outings, Brad’s blown save was something as unexpected as the second term of George W. Bush. 

How were we to tell?

There’s an old cliché that applies: “Oh, those bases on balls.”

Here’s another one: “It ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings.”

So now we all look to Charlie Manuel.  He’s been known to make statements he couldn’t uphold before:

Chan Ho Park will remain in the lineup. 
Brad Lidge will continue to close.

The sad part is, the streak ended, and the Phillies put their clothes back on.

I got dressed too.  I pulled on my fat suit and sang a sad, country song. I wailed until I was out of notes like Lidge was out of options.

But I shed no tears.  

Because remember, “There’s no crying in baseball.”

Phillies-Dodgers: What Do You Get When You Cross a Dollar Dog With…

I bleed red.

 

I think that’s the silliest way to proclaim your devotion to the Phils.

 

But my loyalty goes deeper. Not only do I bleed Phillie red, mine’s pinstriped—like a candy cane. And when it pools on the floor it forms a “P” and smells like “dollar dog night.”

 

But when it comes to a 10 p.m. game after a seven-course French dinner party, my Phillie blood pooled in my belly and pooped me out. Then this morning, I couldn’t watch the game until I pooped.

 

Sorry, maybe that was too much information. 

 

All these parties are really hard on me having no life. Don’t people understand? My eye candy was pitching last night.

 

Since I got home late and forgot to set my TiVo to record the start of the game, I asked it to tape the encore at 1:30 in the morning. Personally, I don’t see how the pain of missing the 10 p.m. game is lessened by the knowledge that you won’t be able to see it at 1:30 either. But that’s just me.

 

To make matters worse, the encore started late too. But that’s okay. Cole Hamels was getting out batters in sequence for most of the night so the first few innings were full of boring, monotonous, AMAZING PITCHING!

 

Of course, great outings by the likes of Antonio Bastardo and JA Happ will make you pad your bra like you’re meeting your husband’s ex.

 

So how does the 2008 World Series MVP top the Happ-y hurler’s seven scoreless innings and fourth straight win? That’s easy: a complete game shutout.

 

Best of all, the debate over the pitch count didn’t even apply. At 97 pitches, count doesn’t matter, and apparently from the numbers in the stats, size doesn’t either.

 

It was Cole’s third career shutout, fourth consecutive win, and his fifth career complete game. Those might be small numbers for such a great performance but I’ve had a great time with small things before.  

 

Sorry, was I thinking out loud?

 

It put the Phils up four games in the NL East and extended their winning streak to seven. No one enjoys seeing the Phils streak more than me—even if it’s only in my pinstriped dreams.

 

How about Eric Bruntlett? He hops off the bench and takes his spot with such seriousness you’d think he’d seen a ghost. I bet that’s it. He sees dead people. We have to lighten him up. Maybe he needs a nickname—like E-Bru or E-Bra. Yeah, I’ll bet he’d appreciate that. Might as well just name him “panties.” I’ll have to think on this.

 

So, just when the Phillies thought they’d run plumb out of pitching options, they’re bleeding wins. And did you hear? Little Kyle Drabek threw seven shutout innings in his first AA win with a fastball that topped out at 97 miles an hour.

 

I might have more experience with small stuff, but that’s pretty impressive.

 

Maybe size does matter.

 

Go Phils!

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