El Keed turned in one of his vintage performances yesterday but I missed the whole thing since I was flying back to Macondo after most of a week in Nyorc (1 PM departure out of MacArthur, 4 PM arribada in Fort Lauderdale, and a twenty minute delay at the Imigra barrier at the Macondo border, where they are already laying the foundations for a forty foot tall statue of Donald Trump that will straddle the building and gaze balefully down, arms folded, at the traffic piling up beneath it). Either way, it was just ahead of the flurry of marginal sturm und drang being generated by Tropical Storm Crapola, which the radio said – I think, I wasn’t really paying attention because I was being searched for Mexican or Muslim chromosomes by the immigration eugenicists at the time – had already formed somewhere over the golf course and was chugging north of us, trailing clouds of lluvia as it went.
Ergo, here’s the secondhand version: El Keed, like some chthonic tutelary spirit rising out of the bentonite clay and genetically altered turf of Macondo Banana Massacre Field itself, threw seven four hit shutout innings, walking none and striking out fourteen of the eviscerated Mutts (that’s eighteen strikeouts per nine innings, haveth thou digits upon which to count; have ye sticky toe pads or tentacles, I’ll teach ciphering to ye next time). He out-dueled Broadway Matt Harvey, who only allowed one run on four hits, walked none and struck out three in the loss. El Keed inspired the usually porous as cheesecloth Feesh boolpen to pitch two innings of no run, no hit, no walk ball. Save eighteen to A J Ramos. I am smacking my pedipalps at the idea of years of classic pitcherly duels between El Keed and Harvey reminiscent of the sublime contests between Dwight Gooden and Fernando Valenzuela of yore.
Hokay, got to atone for a week of domestic duties unfulfilled but would only notify Happy Teins Fan that the Rainbow Warriors are even now en route to the twin igloo conurbations of the cryogenic northlands for a little designatedhitterball to keep them from becoming any more interesting than they are. Should be fun.