Friday, September 28, 2012

Yesterday, we learned that Mars once had water, and Nova once had control of his breaking ball

Now, they're both barren memories. Hey, that's baseball.

But right now, we have as much chance of building a water park beside Mount Sharp as seeing Ivan Nova pitch in the playoffs. So what happened to the Martians, and what happened to the pitcher?

Well, I've seen enough TV to know the Martians built a super-technological society, then blew themselves up because they forgot the importance of love. Maybe that happened to Nova, too. I mean the love part. Because he fell in love with his curve - and we all know curves are fickle; once let loose, they are looking to connect and leave home.
Last year, the future looked great. (I'm referring to Nova now, not Mars.) This year, he's another former hope, the latest in a string of disappointments that go back to the Yarnells and Kamienieckis - whither goest Eric Plunk? - who gave hope and went bone dry.

Listen: It's too early to give up on Ivan. But the working phrase is: See ya next year, Amigo! For 2012, he's just another pitcher with a line through his name, like Pedro Feliciano  and Freddy Garcia.  Can you imagine Joe starting Freddy Garcia? Well, Elie Wiesel said that whatever evil man can imagine, man will bring it forth. But I think we're more inclined to follow Ellie Howard on this. And Ellie would say, no Freddy Garcia.  Or Ivan Nova.

Six games and a one game lead. I don't feel good about this. I watched Toronto beat up Baltimore at Camden Yards. Now, they're home, on that ridiculous domed tennis court, which kills a veterans' legs. If anybody dives for a fly, goodbye Mr. Collarbone. We cannot let Tex play in Toronto. And short of home runs, we don't make anything happen. Grandy is a 2 for 30 slump from .210 -  God, I wish we could bench him, his discipline is horrible - and now, Ichiro has cooled. And Arod... yeesh... he hasn't come back since his injury. And it took him half a season to get going.

Mars had water once. We had a 10-game lead. Nothing lasts forever. And wither goest Christian Parker?

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