Last night’s loss felt like an arbitrary encore, after your favorite band finished a perfect set by playing your favorite song.
This must have been the new, unheard material off the upcoming LP, including the critically panned "Bunt n' Steal." Chances are it won’t crack the Top 40. Maybe in Turkey, but not here.
After Sunday’s acclaimed fan-appreciation finale, this was the bonus track, a leftover from the Ernesto Sessions. They must have been experimenting with something more Avant-garde, something in the Captain Beefheart vein. What a buzzkill. It was difficult to walk out of Citizens Bank Park with a clear appreciation of the whole homestand. Shrill sounds were ringing in my ears. Red means go. Red means stop. Red means big Cholly trotting out of the dugout again. Red means anger.
The game felt like Wolf’s curveball looked after 75 pitches. Both pitchers breezed through the first innings. Wolf was popping his fastball for Ks. The Phils were a little impatient at the dish. Then Jimmy put us on top 4-2 with a two-run blast. After that, it grinded to a halt.
The game thread confirmed what we saw during the top of the seventh. Matt Smith was getting the squeeze. Neither Smith nor Rick White appeared on the same page as catcher Mike Lieberthal. The game became slow and tedious like those 30-minute jams from Phish. The Phils were burned for three runs that inning, all coming by way of the free pass. In all, they walked eight batters, probably the biggest reason they lost.
Sixteen pitchers took the mound. The Astros alone used 25 players to get the win. The Phillies used 20 and fell short. By the ninth, Clay Condrey, the Phillies equivalent to a roadie who will ocassionally assist on percussion, was pitching to Astros groupie Hector Gimenez, taking his first Major League at bat.
In a one-run game with playoff implications abounding, only Yoko Ono could have cooked up something so foul.