Dudes. Seriously. WTF? I turn my back for one second to mess around with the weather crystals, trying to arrange a little light rain for my sad-ass lawn, and the next thing I know, Rudy Seanez pulled another Rudy Seanez. Much like you, I spent the next twenty minutes cursing him to the high heavens. Damning his sad-ass pitch to Jeff Francoeur and his 20-buck haircut and that goddam “I just sat in a plate of warm pudding” look he gets whenever someone comes up huge against him. Guy’s a friggin’ ultimate fighter but any two-bit bum with a stick of wood transforms him into Elton John. Sickening! Anyway, I was just about to pack it in and head over to Chakka’s to collect those Heinekens he owes me, when all of a sudden: Boom! The top of the eighth arrives and everyone goes hoss-wild. Six runs, five hits and — check this — Manny makes two of the inning’s three outs. That’s a lot of input from the so-called “little guys” in the line-up. And it helped turn what could have been a nightmare ending to the roadtrip into a glorious homecoming.
I spent the next twenty minutes sassing The Marshalls, those freakin’ Yanks fans. It was a good day.