So, rather than risk a humiliating loss, the Carmine Hose brought up those 21 pitchers to throw against us, and thereby reduced the game to a sort of spring training spin-off.
Smart—this is always our weak spot. And it's exactly the sort of thing I would like your New York Yankees to do if the positions were reversed: our top starters injured, elimination at home by our chief rival, staring us in the face.
But this is exactly the sort of thing that is hurting the game.
I don't care what the Sabremetricious tell us. In baseball, the pitcher is the hero on the field, and the more you diminish him, the more you hurt the game.
Just look at all the excitement over Verlander's no-hitter. Just look at how many seats in most parks are empty, even when the Mets are playing their fellow Wild Card contenders down the stretch (not to mention all the empty seats at the Stadium Formerly Known as Shea.)
What the Sox are doing are playing into this miserable trend of "the opener." It will have consequences.
Plus, this little stunt, as Duque mentions, has probably killed the 40-man, September call-up. It was already on the ropes, hated as it was by broadcasters, who dreaded the extended games they caused. They made up the excuse that it "unfair" for one team to have, say, 28 players, and another to have 40.
Why IS it unfair, if both teams have the choice? And to paraphrase something a great Yankee supposedly once said in a brothel, anybody who doesn't want to watch more baseball can leave right now—especially if they are making more money than most people will in a lifetime, for a single season of six months.
Instead, we will probably get a 26-man, regular-season roster—more "openers"!—and an "extended" call-up of only 28.
Me, I loved the extended-roster call-up. It gave you a chance to see the young talent of the future. It also gives you a chance to rest the older talent. Expect more and more injured players going into the postseason from now on.
Which, I'm sure, is just what the Lords of the Game want. Having already made the playoffs so much less meaningful by letting in one-third of all teams, now they'll dilute them again with exponential, end-of-the-season injuries.
So...
More arbitrary regular-season games, decided by which of your normal, 6-8 pitchers are off that day. More arbitrary world champions, decided by who happens to be hurt that fall.
More of baseball becoming...like everything else, where on any given Sunday/Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday/Friday/Saturday, anyone can win.
Hooray. I'm sure attendance will be hold steady around the 10,000 a game mark by 2025. Fact is, people like form, just as in anything else.
Saturday, September 7, 2019
Big Joke
Posted by
HoraceClarke66
at
2:51 PM
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11 comments:
The lords of baseball have been diligently working to fuck up perfection since lowering the mound because Bob Gibson was too good. Or something.
They do not stop, will not leave the game alone, and will continue to tinker until baseball is as thrilling as regular season NBA games, which are meaningless spectacles featuring a bunch of pituitary cases, in my late father's immortal words.
Enjoy what we have while we have it. It will be different soon enough.
Ball just attacked J.D. Martinez in the outfield. Ball won.
It's the toughest right field in baseball, Ranger. So speaketh the Master.
Now J.D. Martinez accidentally slapped a female fan in the cleavage fielding a ball. He walked away smiling.
Did he tee hee as he walked away?
2020 season tickets are on sale now.
THIS WIN SHOULD BE THE END OF BOSTON.
SUCK ON THIS CORA.
All is forgiven, young Mister Happ...
Fuck that song by the Brooklyn Zircon. I'll grant you that it's melodic but no shit; whoever fought against it on that front? I hate it now not because I never liked it (which is true and would stand up in any non-Southie court) but because those fuckers, those rotten Boston fuckers, have adopted it as their little theme song. It's like they think they are onto something fresh and original, like the rock stations playing "The Friday Song", which isn't J. Edwards's (who I think has a Syracuse tie or two but am not sure about) anywhere-near-best song anyway. Which leads me down another path where I feel myself hating mass-market radio programming but fuck that. It's sucked for a long time...but back on topic: this is about those Papi-loving BOSTON (read Capetown) STRONG soulless fucks and it's not at all about anything else.
My seventh inning sing-along song last night was Motorhead's "We Are The Road Crew". If it slowed the game down by an hour just because I sang it, I do not apologize. Rufus taught me well.
A Yankee win in Boston...I cannot explain how good each and every one of them feel. Luckily in this place there's no one who doesn't know. But I have to say it anyway: it's like a real-live replay of that time Bill Lee ran his mouth too much and Nettles knocked him on his ass. There is no imaginable situation on this planet or any other where I could root for the Heinz Heels. Compared to those shitfucks (Joe Schultz "Ball Four" reference) I adore the Steinspawn. And I hate them like...I'll have to get back to you with the right analogy; I don't feel hateful enough right now to get it right.
Great win; Happ headed possibly in the right direction; another shovel of dirt on those rotters; and Suzyn's best birthday (and Benjamin's, too). Fuck Caroline. We are the road crew.
Now, please, somebody put some goddamned paper towels in that shithouse for those gods I won't name to wipe their whatevers on, OK?
Replay of J.D. Martinez and fan for those who missed it...
https://v637g.app.goo.gl/Nahv
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