Friday, June 09, 2006

Another Washington Charity Case

The Old Lady and I stepped out on the town last night and had to leave the house before the official end of the game.

It usually devastates me to miss the sadistic exploits of Team Psycho, as I am a sick man and enjoy the regular beatings they inflict upon my corrupted, punishable being. But Eude Brito was pitching, and I was ravaged swiftly and severely.

Brito, you may recall, awoke with a boner the day of his last failed effort in Los Angeles Saturday, and after a hooker relieved him of his tension, he proceeded to spurt gobs of dead-center strikes to the Dodgers, who deposited his love into the alleys at their decrepit home in a ravine.

Brito found himself in a D.C. chasm last night. In a town where charity is dispensed for a price to benefactors the world over, Brito spent Philly fans’ emotional capital generously on the Nationals, an East Division rival that was glad to take all the help it could get. Like any other Washington whore, the Gnats accepted his contributions in exchange for party favors and a House intern keen on fellating someone important.

Brito will not be important too much longer. Not after these two sick showings.

He was done after 4 2/3 innings, and so were the Phils, who bitched and moaned about how the devastating five-hour flight from the West Coast affected their game disposition. Funny. Didn’t Chollie rest three of the regulars in the rubber game at Arizona?

Flight or no flight, Brito allowed the Gnats to reclaim the lead, 4-2, in the fifth inning, and it was done as quick as you can say “Clay Condrey.” The Fightless could manage only four hits against the immortal Mike O’Conner, and, for comic effect, brought in Ryan Franklin to relieve Condrey to start the bottom of the seventh.

As Mrs. Tacony Lou and I saddled up in Olde City for a drinky-poo, we watched in misery as Franklin faced his first batter, Alfonso Soriano, who smacked asshole’s third pitch far away through the cavernous park and over the outfield wall, his 23rd homer - and another reason this guy should be an All-Star despite his reluctance to play left field.

Soriano was a shit-disturber all night. He had the kind of boxscore line that you’d see Rickey Henderson or Tony Gwynn compile – one official at-bat, FOUR RUNS SCORED, and one hit, the homer. He walked twice and was hit by a pitch. He scored every time he stepped to the plate. I'd say that's called "production."

When’s the last time Jelly Roll did that?

Aside from Franklin, the bullpen fared well once again. Condrey permitted but two hits in relief of Brito, and Aaron Fultz was perfect in the eighth in relief of asshole.

Brito and Franklin: The stiff and the asshole. How much longer, Pat Gillick?


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