Can Adam Conley Lead the Feesh to Market? Your May 5 Recap.

Feesh rookie Adam Conley is absolutely sizzling. Say what you want about Jake Arrieta, but this kid, at least in the early going, is looking spectacular. The Rainbow Warriors’  new stud-in-residence pitched 5-1/3 innings of two hit, one walk, six strikeout ball last night while running his no-hit streak to 11-2/3 consecutive innings before Wellington Castillo snapped his streak with his single with two outs in the fourth. I said, I said, I said eleven and two thirds consecutive no hit innings, son. Legends do that kind of thing (though admittedly, so do panflashes on occasion, but I doubt if this was such an occasion). The Feesh went on to win 4-0. Jar Jar Baseball, who apparently never saw a masterpiece in the process of being painted to which he could’t take a spraycan, pulled Conley is an orgy of solicitude at 88 pitches. But this guy looks like the real thing. Next time he starts, make a point of cranking up your subscription and watch him. It’s worth it. On the mound he looks in at his batters the way Bruce the Shark looked up at that kid on the paddleboard. It’s a budding Bob Gibsonish ferocity:×366

Aside from his one monsoon-mangled single inning debut foul-your-young-pants start against the Gnats, he’s since pitched thirteen innings of shutout ball, allowing two hits and fanning twelve.  He’s been the universal gear of the reconditioned Feesh inboard that’s seen the team go 10-1 and claw their way from proximity to the cellar, where little girls eat their daddies, to third place just ahead of the surprising Feelies who, oddly enough, come to town tomorrow with their own stable of Feenoms to open a weekend series at Macondo Banana Massacre Field.

Afield, the Rainbow Warriors managed a couple of runs on mere base hits, and two on Christian Yelich’s second monstrous home run in three nights, this one a few rows back into the right center mezzanine in the eighth.. The Iron Giant, channeling his Chewbacca mask, went two for three with a single, double, run scored and intentional walk. Even the congenitally useless Chris Johnson, subbing for Justin Bour’s swollen left pinkie, doubled over the head of Jean Segura in the fourth to drive in Marcell the Damned. The good news is that Bour should be back tomorrow to face down the horsemeat-and-Velveeta eaters.

Back to Conley. It is, of course, too soon to declare El Keed dethroned as the Feesh’s ofeeshal ace, but he is starting to look oddly like Lee Marvin from here. If Conley’s hype can put a quill up his cloaca and help bring him around to his former self, it’s all to the good. Mebbe these youngsters can become the Koufax and Drysdale of the sunrise side.

The strange attractor continues to recede in the firmament, shedding gossamer reality waves as it goes. Like Krypton before it, it is beginning to demonstrate signs of internal instability:


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