posted on October 23, 2012 09:00
The San Francisco Giants are your National League representative in the 2012 World Series. Drink that in, fuckers. Holy fucking shit.
I didn’t want to be writing this column. I wholeheartedly hoped to be begging for your forgiveness and eating crow with the same furtiveness that I first ate kitty, but it was not to be. This team we’ve been so proud of, and with good reason, laid the grandest of eggs on the largest stage.
This was downright embarrassing. As proud as I was of this group and the fact that they were playing with “house money”, if you will, does not excuse the fact that they quit for the first time I’ve seen in years. They gave up and it was disgusting, ZERO heart in that “battle”.
The Cincinnati Reds had bowed out, the Cardinals dispatched of the Atlanta Braves and the Washington Nationals and the road was as paved as it could be. Beat a bunch of shlubs named Pagan and Belt and walk right into a back-to-back World Series appearance. But it was not to be.
The Cardinals became who they’ve been all season and that will be exposed in October, never as much as it just was in the last 4-days. Awful…just awful. There are players who make a reputation in October. Congratulations, Allen Craig, you are NOT one of those players. Matt Holliday, take note as well.
Look, I can’t hit a 95-MPH fastball with a wooden bat, or even one at 84-MPH like Barry Zito lobbed in there on Friday night, but I like to think I have more fight in me than this. You can take the pride I had a week ago and damned near flip that entire script. Collapse…disappointment…failure…with the last word being the most operative.
The only saving grace in all of this is that the Detroit Tigers are about to put an epic beat-down on the Giants, and you can take that to the proverbial bank. Justin Verlander will make these saluting schmucks look like the players they actually are and the Tiger lineup will bring Giant pitching down from that Cy Young perch the Cardinals so willingly put them on. If this goes 6-games, I’ll blow the biggest message board tough guy on the steps of the Old Courthouse.
Jesus Harold Christ, I’m pissed off. And I’m pissed off more for being pissed off. Why does a goddamned game of sticks and balls leave me so empty on a Monday night? My life doesn’t change one iota in the morning rather they won or lost. If anything, my angry ass should be happy I don’t have to read about every undeserving putz in STL going to a World Series game when I still haven’t been to one in 41-years of life and 6-opportunities.
It speaks volumes to how spoiled we are here in The Lou. I’ve lived through 6-World Series appearances and 3-wins. That’s more than a population the size of Eastern Europe, who’ve been unlucky enough to live in Chicago, have in a century plus. I should be grateful. I should be counting my blessings and happy to be alive. I should be an optimist, waking up riding a unicorn through the rainbow of life, shaking hands with my neighbor at church, saying “peace be with you”, and voting for Barack Obama.
“And also with you”, asshole. Not going to happen. It will take me roughly 9-days to get over this shit and possibly the aid of a Taiwanese boy-toy. I now have to watch the Blues not play hockey and the Rams pretend to play football. Baseball is over and I have to live with that.
I would normally root for the NL regardless in the World Series, but between working just 40-miles from Detroit and hating every bubble blowing, fat-ass 3rd-baseman, saluting dick-weed of a centerfielder and injured cartoon of a former closer with the biggest goddamned douche-beard the world has seen since the “soul-patch” first graced some asshole’s chin who thought it looked cool, I’m American League all the way. Besides, the Tigers have Doug Fister, hands down the best name in sports. “Fister? Nah – just fingered her a little bit.”
I still like to think that St. Louis would’ve made this a much more entertaining series but we’ll never know. We’ll never know because a team that displayed uncommon fortitude and cohesiveness only 10-days ago now collectively grabbed their vaginas and flat out quit when it came down to it.
It could be worse I suppose. I could be sitting on $250-million on a couch in Anaheim, between Jesus and Dan Lozano, and asking both of those MF’ers why they directed me out of St. Louis and the consistency of playoff baseball, but I digress. That’s how despondent I’ve become – cheap Albert Pujols shots to end my column.
Fuck Hunter Pence…KMFP-out!
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