Friday, June 25, 2010
Quick, Dirty, Ill-Conceived Thoughts
Remember how it always seemed that Roy Halladay struggled against the free-swinging Rays and Angels while (seeming) to carve up the patient Sox and Yanks? Like the chumps waiting for their walks ended up muttering on their way back to the dugout while the infernal Rays & Angels stood smugly on second base? Maybe, just maybe, that bodes well for the freest of free-swinging Blue Jays. Everything is around the plate, maybe the overwhelming bat speed and contact making abilities of the Jays will win the day?
That would be pretty swell, I guess. I more or less refuse to turn my back on the great pitcher because he changed shirts. Pitching does it for me (too), and watching so the thought of innumerable whiffs and Vernon Wells Brand Headshakes and Hurled ProfanitiesTM kind of excites me.
If it means the Jays lose, so be it. If Halladay strikes out 15 tonight, I'm just as happy. I watch for the show, for the execution. And nobody does it better.
Of course, should Mister Vernon Wells get on top of a poorly-placed cutter over the heart, riding it out of Citizen's Bank Park like an over-refreshed Jersey girl in a Chase Utley shersey, I'll shout, scream, and pretty much lose my shit all over my house. I'm fickle that way.
AP Photo by Daylife and somesuch.