*Note – I need to be orf early tomorrow morning on a variety of sophisticated errands, some of which will take me to the edge of the known universe (ie, as far as the Golden Glades interchange at the US border to the north) and so am publishing my usual contribution to the day’s scoring analyses the night before.
There are third innings from heaven. There are third innings from hell. And then there are third innings from the lands beyond right knowing where the eye wanders and the lip jerks and drools.
The Feesh had one of the latter today in bratwurst heaven, drubbed 14-5 by the Brooze. But don’t let those five runs fool you. The Feesh once again managed to leave eleven men on base, for a happy total of 28 (or the equivalent of a full game’s worth of at-bats plus one) in the last two days alone. In fairness, they were 4-14 with RISP which is a phenomenal improvement on yesterday’s 0-12. There’s winning ugly, and there’s winning Gorgon-ugly. I mean, Jan Brewer ugly. This team can ackcherley look awful banging out sixteen hits and managing to push across only five runs in the process.
Tom Koehler – a name which, as a matter of mere onomatopoeisis, one normally associated with flushing a toilet, lasted 2-1/3 innings during which he barfed up eight runs, all well earned. He couldn’t have thrown a neutron past a ground sloth today, and fortunately he didn’t try. There’s only so much humiliation one wants to heap upon oneself, and seeing a ground sloth drive your neutron – which is only a provisional entity in the first place – into the gap in left center would have probably been a little too much. The boolpen played Santa Claus too, leaving six more runs under Craig Counsell’s O Tannenbaum.
Zho: the Rainbow Warriors’ majestic winning streak succumbed to those gossamer reality waves from the strange attractor and halted at seven, leaving them at 12-12 and six games up on the 6-18 Barves, who were greeted at back door of Wrigley Field by the team bus to the airport for most of them and by an ox-drawn wooden cart for Fat Fredi. Uh oh. I’ve seen that scenario before. It’s just that in this case the utter of the two cities is Atlanta. Meanwhile the Feesh find themselves splat up against the strange attractor again, with a day orf until Tuesday when Friendo’s larger cousins come in for a three game set and heavy thunderstorms are being forecast by my beloved Stephanie Abrams at the Weather Channel (but who, working as she does for NBC, may be nothing more than an Idoru by now).
Here’s today’s strange attractor for you. Note the distortions caused by the Feesh first barreling through the bottom of it, then falling back into it, with the subsequent intensification of its gossamer reality waves: