Game Notes

This is going to be one of approximately ten games over the course of the season that I'm going to be around for the end of, so I'm really paying attention. Starting . . . now! I missed the first three innings.

I LOVE the new road jerseys. I wonder why the Nats and the Orioles decided at the same time to do that right.

I'm good luck: I tuned in just in time for Guzman's single, and now we have a couple runs.

I'm enjoying the emerging narrative around Julian Tavarez: that he's a total dick who throws at people just because he can, but he's our total dick who throws at people just because he can.

Over on MASN1, Sabathia just got booed by a de facto home crowd.

And now I'm not good luck anymore.

I knew Bonifacio would turn out to be a player. Dammit. Lastings Milledge in center is going to be fun. Anyone miss Brandon Watson?

Josh Bard to went to frigging Cherry Creek High School? I have a new least favorite Nat. Fuck Cherry Creek. Smoky Hill 4 Life.

Rob Dibble is going to spend 162 games (plus spring training) advocating chin music, isn't he? I'm not saying he's wrong, but mix it up a little.

This rad, danceable simile just came to me: I miss Don Sutton . . . like the deserts miss the rain.

They probably should have gotten Nolasco out of there. Just sayin'.

It doesn't matter that he's a completely run of the mill hitter: Zimmerman's in there for his defense.

The first Dibble comment I liked, on Bonifacio: "He's hitting 1.000 right now. In two weeks he'll be hitting .220."

So it's gonna be like that, is it? Well get used to Hanley doing that to us, if you aren't already.

OK, so my wife is sitting here playing with a cat and not paying particular attention to the game. I present a transcription:
Bob Carpenter: "And at the end of the seventh, the Nats are down 12-5."
Wife: *SNORT*
Wife: "Sorry."
Cat: "Meow."

And finally, in case you were wondering when the Future was finally going to get here, wait no more. Here is a video of this very post performed by me in a butcher's apron, with commentary by my biggest fan, Australian Ben Franklin. I'm not kidding when I say: this is the best thing on this miserable blog since I called Dayn Perry an asshole.