I have failed you in a tragically catastrophic way. Wednesday night, I braved certain rain showers to attend the game. I felt confident that Justin Verlander would put down a stellar performance. I even hinted that he might touch greatness again. I had a “feeling” about it. I never doubted my ability to bring home a win for the club. I’ve never been more wrong.
What in the name of balls and strikes happened here? Verlander threw exactly 100 pitches over five innings, and went on to pitch the sixth for a total of 114. He gave up a three run homer to Justin Smoak in the first inning. Why did we even pitch to Smoak? Cust is scuffling so badly right now. Sigh. Justin wasn’t horrific, but he wasn’t spectacular as I somehow mistakenly felt he might be.
The rain. It was almost plague-like. It would come down lightly for ten minutes, then taper off. Then I’d just take of my rain jacket hood for five minutes, and down she’d come again, sometimes picking up in intensity for short periods, but never lasting too long. Relentless, she reappeared again and again. I have to give it up to the fans, though. It wasn’t a large crowd, but hardly anyone left (until the wheels came off and we gave up six runs in the 9th, then it was mass exodus.) I was duly impressed with the hardiness of those in attendance. It was no fair weather bunch.
Although I’d like to blame the rain for my inefficacy, I can’t do it. It would be a cop out. Thankfully, I have a proper scapegoat. I invited Rogo of DesigNate Robertson to join me at the park, but was brutally rebuffed. He said something about Lost reruns, or watching birds eat vomit or something. Loser. He should be the target of your ire. If he had been there, Justin would never have given up a three-run homer to Smoak. Never woulda happened. Yes, I am selling it, and you are buying. Would you prefer me to provide details of the meltdown from the top of the ninth? Didn't think so.