So I met this dude from Cal Tech at Rocco’s on Friday, and, yeah, I was right: Einstein did say that insanity was repeating the same experiment and expecting a different result.
Remember what I said about how insane Dave Roberts’ managing’s gotten in the World Series? Putting Ryan Madson into Game 2 after he sank the Dodgers in Game 1 – so he could sink them all over again? That’s what Einstein was talking about.
He goes and does it again. Since I know nothing about science and a lot about baseball, I reckon I shouldn’t expect Dave Roberts to know too much about Einstein either, but, shit man…you don’t need to be Einstein to know not to stick Madson into a situation where there are runners on base.
Y’all must know what happened. It wasn’t pretty. Neither was Jansen giving up a homer in the 8th…and the whole 9th was so ugly…what’s uglier than ugly? Super uglyass, maybe? That doesn’t sound strong enough to describe the opposing team scoring 5 runs in a game we were leading 4 to 0 after the 6th.
But it all started with Madson. Which means it all started with Roberts. Again. Madson could be this year’s Yu Darvish.
And it was especially lameass to put Madson in because there was no need to go to the bullpen. Hill had been totally awesome into the 7th. Yeah, he walked a batter, but he got the next batter out. He could have gotten the next two outs. He couldn’t have been any worse than what happened.
So taking Hill out was premature. So was taking out Scott Alexander, who I like, although he’s fucked things up in the past. He clearly wasn’t ready when he gave that 4 pitch walk, but, hey, he was probably warmed up after that. Instead…that’s when that jerkoff Madson got stuck in…and we know what happened.
Ok, this is what I’m like when I get pissed off after a game. Maybe I need Keaton’s punching bag, but he’s working tonight and I watched the game here by myself.
I had enough of sports bars after Friday night. I watched all 7 hours and 20 minutes of that game at Rocco’s. I was there with Sloppy Joe, and it was actually pretty fun to be having a crazy experience with a bunch of other people having the same crazy experience. (It might not have felt so fun had the Dodgers lost…) Y’all can probably imagine how tore up we all were by the time it was over…which is probably why I don’t remember too much of the game. I remember Bellinger getting caught stealing, and thinking he was a jerkoff. And I remember Bellinger making a totally awesome throw and thinking he was cool again. (I could never throw like that, so I really admire it when a dude can do it. I was an infielder for a reason lol.)
And I remember Muncy going long and the place going crazy. There weren’t too many people who’d been there the whole time, but there were a few of us, plus their regular Friday night crowd. Everyone was into it by the end. I’m just glad I didn’t spill my last beer all over my Corey Seager jersey.
(I saw a dude on the TV tonight sitting in the pavilion and he had on a Seager jersey too. So I reckon it’s okay, even if he’s not playing. It’s the only Dodgers jersey I got. Although my birthday’s coming up soon lol.)
So I was tore up down to the floor by the time the game was over, so, even if Keaton wasn’t working a block away, I still wasn’t going to drive home. I headed over to the Volcano: I reckoned I could have another beer and Keaton could give me a ride after the place closed.
Keaton said he and Miguel were having an easy night. Or a boring one. I ran into Carter, if y’all remember the USC boy who’d gotten into that fight two weeks ago…and whose car keys Keaton had taken away after he’d saved his ass. He was there with some different buddies, and was pretty tore up again. I wasn’t sure he’d remember me, since he’d been so fucked up two weeks ago and I hadn’t really said anything to him, but it came back that I was Keaton’s buddy. It’s weird the things you remember from when you were drunk.
“You’d better be taking an Uber,” I said, although I was sure Keaton would have cut him off a few drinks ago if he weren’t.
“Yeah, man. No worries.”
The conversation looked like it was gonna be more boring than a bitcoin seminar. Then he remembered something else.
“You’re Keaton’s baseball player friend, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. I reckon I missed the episode where Keaton told Carter I played ball. Not that this was the first time he’d told somebody about me. I reckon it’s because he’d rather talk about somebody else than about himself.
Carter started asking me a bunch of questions about where and what I played, so I gave him the usual rundown on MT and the Crawdads and my weekend in AAA. (I just realized I haven’t told y’all about that yet.) He was pretty interested for a while, then one of his buddies started getting bored and said they should get their uber before the 2 o’clock “rush”. I didn’t know that was a thing, although it does make sense. It’s like getting to the Pantry downtown at 1:45 before everyone shows up at 2.
Keaton said he’d drive me home, so I stayed around like usual while they closed up, with another of Keaton’s short story cigars instead of a last beer. (Y’all may find it hard to believe, but I had enough beer for one night. Especially as I was drinking pretty crappy tap shit all night.) I was a little too tore up for the IHOP, so Keaton just took me back to my place. I passed out on the bed in my Seager jersey as soon as I got in the door, but I was feeling good. I’d been sitting on my ass at Rocco’s for 7 hours, but the important part was the Dodgers won and the series was 2-1. Things were looking good.
Then tonight happened.
I’m watching the game at Keaton’s tomorrow. I hope I ain’t gonna need the punching bag.
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