The buzz I felt leaving the ACC on Thursday night should have been strong enough to carry me through yet another two disappointing Jays losses. Not quite. Not with a loss like this one.
Last night's loss was doubly painful - first, because of what a win might have meant, and second, because of the way the game was lost.
For the last excruciating seven days, we've all had one far-fetched thought on our minds: maybe we just need one key hit to turn everything around, and maybe when Rolen returns he'll be the guy to do it. Well, he's back, and yep, he got the clutch 8th inning double to give us the lead. There it was - the big knock that would inspire his teammates, re-ignite the squad, and put a skidding halt to this destructive losing streak that's threatening to end this season before it's really begun.
Of course, here's where it all falls apart. All season we've been complaining about Gibby's failure ever to use the Prime Minister of Defence - at a minimum, he should be out there when Doc starts and when we have a late lead. Even Richard Fucking Griffin has been saying this, because anyone with one functioning eye knows that Johnny Mac is ten times the defender that the god-damn midget is.
The midget had already done his best to give KC the win earlier in the night, when he bounced a throw in what was a bang-on imitation of how my unborn daughter might someday toss a ball (with her wrong hand), leading to the then go-ahead run for KC. So what in the name of Manny Lee was he doing back out there at short in the bottom of the 8th with a two-run lead to protect and a vastly superior shortstop nailed to the bench? Is Gibby worried about hurting his pint-sized feelings? What the Christ is this all about? Even the early-season excuse of not wanting to take out your last back-up infielder is no longer valid, because Scutaro is around, for presumably the sole purpose of being the emergency guy on the bench.
So, in conclusion, Downs induced the inning ending double play, the midget flat out choked on it in the face of a runner charging down the line, and the game was lost. Sometimes I think my dad, who's never watched a game in which he didn't think half the players were bribed, might not be completely nuts. I'm just not sure whether the criminal investigation starts with Gibby or the midget. Can we just short-circuit the whole thing by firing them both?
The final wry laugh of the evening came when Fletch (whom I like, if only because of who he isn't) made the following nonsensical excuse for the midget (I paraphrase, because I was bit distracted by my fist being repeatedly driven into my own temple): "Well, he made the big error there, but there's nobody you'd rather have handling that play than David Eckstein". Excuse me while I take a flying header off my balcony.
We gave that game away, pure and simple. And with the slightest bit of heads-up managing, the loss could have been avoided. I'm through making excuses for Gibby and the rest of them. I wish I were the one who had declared a strike yesterday. Fuck them - today I'll be cheering on TFC, followed by a little pvr'ed Raptor action, and the Jays will be a distant painful memory in my mental rear-view mirror.