Somebody sold me a bill of goods on this season.
This was supposed to be the line-up that wouldn’t quit. A perfect storm of speed and lumber that would pound opposing pitchers into dust. A team that might win 100 games. A team picked by practically everyone with a keyboard and internet access and half a cranium to win it all.
And yet, after eleven games, we’ve only logged two Ws.
Two!
That’s roughly five or six less than I thought we’d have by now.
Meanwhile, the lowly Rays, laughed out of contention during the offseason and looking every bit as pathetic as us out of the gate, have eaten our lunch. Slapped us around for 16 runs last night, and stuck it to our ace tonight.
On paper, this team is Vin Diesel. But in real life, we’re Peter Dinklage. And at 2-9, we’ve got the worst record in all of baseball. That includes the Pittsburgh Pirates.
Who’s to blame? Are all the starting pitchers just struggling with a nasty case of suck? Are the hitters still on February Standard Time? Is Crawford simply weighted down by expectations? Is this the same Adrian Gonzalez guy we’ve been pining over for years now, or did San Diego slip us his twin brother Ahmet? And how long before The Elf has a stroke from carrying this offense on his shoulders?
I know it can’t continue. It’s not scientifically possible. This team will hit. This team will score runs. This team will be in contention by summer’s end.
Right?
