Thanks for the comments, gents. I agree with all of it -- even the crap about the Dodgers, my pick to win the World Series. (That's right, you heard it here first -- well, I probably stole it from John Kruk or someone, but what's he going to do?)
And the part about Yankee fans, too. Wackos, they are. I'd use that eyerolling smiley, but we'll need it later. You'll find out. Buckle up tight, here comes the second half...
Ah, first game of the new season. Well, if this was low class-A ball, it'd be a new season. Or would it? I never did really understand those first half/second half standings, anyway.
But back to the new season...we have four games at home against
Oakland, but everyone's boy
Buehrle isn't fully rested, so he's probably out. Maybe that Dag Rims guy was on to something with his vote in that poll, after all. So without
The Buehrle One or
Wild Thing, let us see how
Schizophrenic Jorge feels today.
What, you expected Jon Garland?
We'll handle the devilish nonsense of
Brett Tomko, who, likely because of these postseason races, I'm confusing with
Dustin Hermanson right now. An odd pair to get mixed up, but let's forget that, for if we don't, this one will end up as long as the
Super-Long Midseason Review (
now with additional commentary!).
It's just not going to be our day, though. My button-pressing feels off, the temperature's eighty-something degrees (
it probably is here, too, but ignore that), and we've got a sparse crowd of fourteen grand out to watch the first game of the new season. Feeling the bad vibes,
Bad Jorge looks herky, jerky, and generally lousy from the get-go, but a nice play from
Ramon Vazquez at second and the general suckiness pervading from
Billy McMillon batting second aids him in getting the first two outs anyway.
Eric Chavez steps up and hits a long home run, though, almost effortlessly, like Roy Hobbs or someone, and it's 1-0.
Erubiel Durazo, the famed assassin, flies out to left on the first pitch of his at-bat, and we're through a half-inning, but I think we're going to get shut-out.
Sure enough,
Hacktastic Julio strikes out to start the bottom of the first. Why was I blathering about him being any good? What was I
thinking?
D.Y. raps a grounder to second, and I'm thinking about trading him, just for the hell of it, even though I said I wouldn't. But
Mark Ellis pulls a Knoblauch and
D.Y. ends up on second.
Maggs singles and just like that, we--
No. No.
Our only All-Star, not that I'm bitter or anything, flies out to right on a 2-1 "fast" "ball". But
Brad Fullmer (
long live NYJuggalo!)
triples into the right field corner on the same count that
Maggs bit the dust on, and now we really are tied.
Joe Borchard digs in to the left-handed batter's box, squeezing the bat, and whacks a high, outside slider from
Tomko to the opposite field and through to left for a base hit.
R-Vaz strikes out for the hundred thousandth time and it may be a comedy of errors, but we're winning. Golly, it's only the first inning. (
Heh, that rhymed. God, I'm losing it. We needed a longer All-Star Break.)
Rain falls,
DePaula can't grip the ball, and he walks
Mark Kotsay to begin the second. Then, of course, a rain delay's called. Thanks, Tim Tschida, keep up the good work!
After the tarp's unfurled,
Kotsay, that rat bastard, takes off across the infield and slides into the mud puddle that is second base. So I stick my tongue out at
Ken Macha and intentionally walk
Eric Byrnes to bring up a couple guys hitting near the Mendoza line (
We've heard this song before, I think) --
Jeremy Brown and
Mark "
Knoblauch"
Ellis.
The Jeans Salesman whiffs, and
Steve Sax taps an 0-2 pitch to third...and
Enrique bobbles it. Damn. Bases loaded, but
DePaula, wonder that he is, does his little trick of metamorphosis, fanning his counterpart on three pitches and inducing
Bobby Crosby to get quite a ways under a 2-0 slider and fly out to
Maggs, ending the inning with our outfit still winning. It's...only...the...second...inning...though.
We give
Oakland practice on pop-ups, of all things, hitting two of 'em in the bottom of the second and going down in order.
DePaula is really in a groove in the third, though, sandwiching ground balls around a beautiful 2-2 fastball that
Eric Chavez does a wonderful job of admiring.
Hacktastic Julio, devil that he is, strikes out for what could be the fortieth time to commence the bottom of the third, but
D.Y. follows that display of ineptitude up with a stinging line-drive double down the right field line. And
Maggs follows that up with a solid single to --
Wait, no,
The All-Star grounds out to second, and this time
Brad Fullmer has a more atypical at-bat, doing the same as
Maggs, not the same as what
Maggs should do. But at least
Our All-Star knows how to make his outs productive!!1
I have a sickly feeling as
Mark Kotsay steps in that his doubles numbers aren't quite right, and sure enough, he goes and whacks a two base hit. It's that frigging binomial theory probability crap, I bet.
Eric Byrnes follows that up with a towering four base hit, and now we're down a run. I'm going to go hide my head somewhere. Somehow, while I do that, we get out of the inning.
Enrique Wilson thwacks a two-out double in our portion of the fourth, and the numbnuts pitch to
Jason LaRue. Who strikes out. Ah, regression to the mean. Damn him. Damn him and his career .231 batting average.
Apparently Tejada (
that's Crosby, by the way, and I don't know what the hell it means, either) fires a single to left as if out of a cannon, but
Billy McMillon decides to sacrifice. Not even doing that right, he sacrifices
Crosby's place on the basepaths instead, and then
Chavez Ravine and
Durazo Ruby both forget how to hit, striking out in sequentially ugly fashion. I smell a momentum swing coming...
Feeling it, really
feeling it, I pinch-hit for
DePaula in the bottom of the fifth, calling on
The Big Hurt. He grounds to third.
Lugo, that goof, strikes out on three pitches...(
boy, he's been indescribably horrible today), and
D.Y. does him one better. Well, in the sense that he makes
Tomko throw one more pitch before grounding out. Yeah, momentum swing.
P.J. Bevis, my boy, comes on for the sixth more out of default than anything, but lefty
Mark Kotsay singles and then
Byrnes and his California good looks and appeal strike again, like Wes Parker or someone, as he hits another two-run home run. Two batters later,
Mark Ellis and his .191 average go yard, and I hit my head on the keyboard and just sigh for a moment. Somehow, we get out of the inning without pitching changes nor changes in the medication that I'm apparently taking. Momentum swing, damn it! Momentum!
Down four in the sixth, what d'you do? If you're the
Pale Hose, start raking, baby.
Maggs actually lives up to his status as our
Exalted One (
Our Buddha? I like that! 
) with a leadoff hit, and then
Brad Fullmer singles to give us runners at the corners. A comeback, perhaps? And
Joe Borchard hits a screaming line drive...right at
Bobby Crosby. It's all we can do to not get doubled off.
R-Vaz falls into a two-strike hole, and I can just see us squandering the inning away, but instead of striking out...
He fouls pitches off. First one, then another, and another. Five all told. Finally,
Tomko makes a mistake 3-2 pitch, and the
Ramon Vazquez of May whacks it to the left-center field gap.
Fullmer gets the stop sign at third, but it's a run-scoring two-bagger and we might just have some life. Then
Enrique takes two pitches wide and 14,000 fans can feel it coming. "It", of course, being a fly out to center on the next pitch, but it's deep enough to get us another run.
Jason LaRue gets a 3-0 count in his favor and the smell of anticipation cuts through the air...but a fastball down the heart goes for a strike one, and a perfectly placed changeup goes for number two. With a full count,
LaRue meekly pops out on an 88 mph heater, and suddenly it smells like cheese, for whatever reason. But we're alive, if barely.
The dynamic duo of
Bevis and
Mike Gallo gets the trio of boppin' lefties out in order in the seventh, and as right-hander
Chris Mears comes on for the seventh, I look at our crappy bench and with
Kotsay leading off the next inning for the
Athletics, I let
Gallo hit. And wouldn't you know it -- he whacks a hard ground ball...but right to
Mark Ellis. Would have been something, though. But
Hacktastic Julio (
have I mentioned my love for him lately?) slaps a single, and
D.Y. rips one to right. Runners at the corners! Lead run at the plate! And it's
Our Token All-Star!
Oh God, he's going to hit into a double play...
"
Ordonez digs in against the sidearming former Detroit Tiger Chris Mears...from the stretch, the right-hander checks both runners, nods at Jeremy Brown, and comes to the set. Ordonez squeezes the bat tightly, stares intensely as Mears winds himself around and here it comes..."
####! Don't swing, damn it, don't swing...!!!
"
Slider and it's lined...past a diving Chavez and down into the left field corner! That'll score Lugo, and Young will...be held at third as the throw comes in, too late to get Ordonez. An RBI double, and the Oakland lead is down to one!"
That's why he's our All-Star!!!!!
Left-handed
Brad Fullmer is walked intentionally to face "switch"-"hitter"
Joe Borchard, but they leave
Mears out there instead of bringing in a lefty to face good ol'
6-61. After a fastball high for ball one,
Mears' second pitch is but a mere spectre of a ball, or so it appears as
Jeremy Brown forgets to catch the ball and the little white pill ricochets to the backstop.
D.Y. scampers home, and we are tied up!!
Borch is intentionally passed after that, loading the bases again, and on comes the bowels of their bullpen in the form of
Brian Bowles. Of course,
Ramon Vazquez hits a tailor-made double play ball on
Bowles's
first pitch of the game, and I feel like sh*tting in my mouth. Sorry. Had to be said. At least we're tied, though.
Gallo does what I saved him for (
remember that? letting him hit? good, 'cause I don't...), retiring
Mark Kotsay, the lefty, to start the eighth, but
Aki Otsuka comes on and promptly pisses all over everything.
Eric Byrnes ropes a single, possibly his thirtieth hit of the game.
Jeremy Brown stares at a close 3-2 pitch, and it's called ball four. Someone named
Michael Rouse pinch-hits. He's a lefty. Where is
Mike Gallo now? I send Jamison Bryan out there, tell him to slap
Otsuka and somehow convince him to attack, attack, attack, but the language barrier is too much.
Rouse rouses me out of whatever state I'm in by hitting a sharp ground ball up the middle,
but Ramon F***ing Vazquez makes a backhanded stop, takes it to second himself, and rifles it to first for an inning-ending double play. Too many emotions here...help me...
Enrique Wilson, Relief Ace draws a walk to start whatever inning we're somehow in, and that brings on the non-bowels of the
Oakland bullpen as they screw with my strategy, bringing in screwballing
Jim Mecir. "
Screw that," the quixotic
Jason LaRue says to me before leaving the dugout for the batter's box, "
I'm going yard". He's
Jason LaRue, though, and instead he hits a double-play ball...that
Enrique turns into a fielder's choice ball by taking out
Bobby Crosby with a perfect slide. Golly,
Enrique is the man! That brings up the pitcher's spot, and on a stupid whim, I tell
Juan Uribe to stop clinging to my leg and grab a bat. Lo and behold, my LaRussian management pays off as
Uribe strokes a single, giving us runners at first and second with one out for -- oh no.
Hacktastic Julio. And you just know he's going to be hackin' away, too...
"
One ball and no strikes to the right-handed Lugo. Mecir steps back for a moment, staring in at Jeremy Brown but not on the rubber. He nods, then steps back on. Lugo grips the bat tightly, wags it around as Mecir brings his hands together, finally ready. A quick look at the runners, and the pitch is a fastball, hacked at awkwardly and looped into center field and it's going to drop! LaRue's coming around third, Kotsay's coming home, the throw and LaRue is...SAFE! He's SAFE, in under the tag, and both runners will move up as Brown's throw back to second won't be in time to get Lugo! This play started with a fastball up around Julio Lugo's chin, and it ends with the lead in the hands of the Pale Hose and two men in scoring position! Unbelievable..."
D.Y. hits a weak bouncer to the clutches of the drawn-in infield for out number two, and
All-Star Magglio Ordonez raps a shot to short that
Bobby Crosby fields...and wings into the dugout. No, it's not quite
Maggs's ability that did that, but if he were
Ichiro!, I could pretend it was, so I'll do it anyway. That's why he's
Our All-Star! Both runs score, and that's all we need as
Mercurial Kiko fires off bullets in the ninth, pitching a perfect inning and giving us a win to start off the second half in absolutely wonderous fashion.
OAK 6 CHW 9
WP: A. Otsuka (4-3) - thanks,
R-Vaz, keep up the fine defense!
LP: J. Mecir (5-2) - I have a feeling
Bobby Crosby's going to be carrying someone's luggage for quite some time
S: K. Calero (2) - the way he pitched, give him a save -- two strikeouts and a ground ball
Game Ball Goes To... Eric Byrnes, who we don't fare well against. You expected
Julio Lugo, perhaps? Who else does it go to,
Juan Uribe? How about the
Elephants' bullpen, for being lousy enough to let us back in the game? Works for me!