Game 69

When last we left our heroes, they were:

a) mired in the worst season in team history;
b) facing the hottest team in the AL;
c) rolling out the cream of the AAA crop;
d) living vicariously through the bat of Ichiro Suzuki;
e) All of the above.

Sadly, it is E, as always. Rich Baker pulls himself away from piles of work and money to join me at the ballpark, and after pleasantries, we catch up some. Of course, we’ve been in contact all season long, by the device of our roto league, but other than a brief encounter last year, we really haven’t spent much time with each other in a number of years.

It was good to catch up. Too bad the Mariners could not. You’ve probably heard the news already, but the mariners got their collective asses handed to them last night by Curt Schilling and the red hot Red Sox.

Lucky for us, the stadium was tenanted by the Red Sox nation, rather than the Mariner faithful. The season ticket regulars were present, but the vast majority of them left the game after Boston batted around three times in two innings. the only team spirit in evidence was the drunken ass (yep, I said it) who was desperate to glorify himself through the mechanism of “the wave.”

Perhaps if he wasn’t a drunken lout, it would have worked. But the Wave is often perpetrated on unsuspecting baseball fans by just such a moron. Perhaps he should have tried it before Boston went up by 11. Or perhaps he should have tried it with mindless Mariners fans, instead of Fenway faithful.

My theory is that he shouldn’t have tried it in my section. Note to the potential drunken louts who may read this: Get the bleep out of my face, before I lose some of my hard acquired emotional calm. And whatever you do, don’t stand directly in front of me when you do it. I am large, loud, ill-tempered, and not afraid of being arrested for pounding you into a smooshy red paste.

Rich remarks that he’s not sure he’s seen a comeback of this magnitude at a game before. I am forced to remind him of the game that shall not be named, during which he himself stopped and watched the meltdown with us. He wisely abandons this line of inquiry, as I wistfully remember the days when I could blow $200+ on a bar bill, and not worry overmuch about it.

Sigh, lost youth.

No offensive plays of note for the Mariners, save for a GRD which came within inches of our location (twice), and an HR that barely cleared the fence in right. Both by Bret Boone, who was the topic of a pregame conversation between good king Roele and I. To whit, whether or not the trade we made earlier in the year was working out in his favor. It is not, but Boone seems bound and determined to tell the world he is a homerun hitter.

Sadly, he can’t hit water with a paddle.

Ichiro did not get one of the 6 hits for the M’s tonight, although he did reach base on a FC which may have been a hit if there was no baserunner preceding him. Kevin Millar made a wild stab at a rocket grounder, with no one covering first base. he wisely chucks the ball to second, a sure out instead of a sure error. Rule 10.06 remains one of his only obstacles to beating the MLB single season hit record, and it’s a big one.

M’s lose, again.