Oh God, You Devil

This hurts. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

You can argue that Rolen's offensive numbers this year don't compare favourably to Glaus' from last year, and that the trade therefore didn't make sense for the Jays, especially given that Rolen has hit the DL for the very shoulder that represented the deal's big question mark. But then there's the defense. And then, then there's the fact that, as far as I'm concerned, it is without question more enjoyable to watch a team which features Scott Rolen. I hate to invoke intangibles here, but there's something about Rolen's head-down, mouth-shut posture, his workmanlike attitude, that rubs me the right way. Oh, and watching him play third base. Hot damn, I love to watch the man play third base.

Get well soon, Mr. Rolen. Because, as much as I'd love to see this team go on a tear and work themselves into contention, I'd also like to simply enjoy watching them, and I'm not sure seeing Scutaro at third will give me quite the same feeling (even if Johnny Mac is playing immediately to his left).

Clog Those Bases

Ever the optimist (?), I choose to highlight the positive from last night's 3-2 loss to Wang and the Yanks.

Doc Being Doc - angry and intense man that he is, he pitched a solid game. He just had the misfortune of doing on a night when Wang was also damn good. My dad's kind of intense like Doc, but he can't pitch, so it's just weird. He mutters a lot.

Scooter Scooting - I think the Drunkards are right, Scutaro's stolen bases were just him holding up his end of the hit-n-run bargain, but I like his fire. A Venezuelan's word is bond.

Running Up That Hill - Our second sacker is making good contact and would-shoulda-coulda had a couple of more extra bases, but for Melky Cabrera's meddlesome interference. One question: why in the hell is he hitting seventh? Is JP exerting influence and trying to keep Hill's value down for next winter's extension talks? Wha-? Move him up to no. 2.

Alright, the negative: stranding runners; not recognizing the 4' x 8' Yankee Stadium special strike zone. Will those fuckers get those sorts of sentiment-driven calls all year? Jesus, hand them the trophy now.

For your listening pleasure: The Southpaw has a solid suggestion, if you just can't abide Rod Black's pandering, Pat Tabler's filler, or Jamie Campbell's inanity. Everybody knows that MLB Audio never syncs with the TV images, so that's a non-starter (though I do love me some Jerry Howarth). So turn down the TV and turn up the stereo! You're smarter than those hacks, anyway, so do your own play by play while enjoying the noise of your choosing.

Tonight: AJ vs. Mussina. We find out if AJ's fingernail has healed, and if he's got all his stuff this season. Mussina kind of owns Toronto, but if AJ can keep them close, the new run-n-gun offense (football?) can make a game of it. Maybe? I mean, if that homer strike zone contracts even just a bit.

This guy predicts: Vernon wakes up, goes 3-4 with 3 RBI. Eckstein makes another mistake or two, but covers it up with grit and character. Scooter steals another base. Hill hits a double. Jays win 5-3.

In Wrigleyville, ex-Jay Ted Lilly throws for the Cubs today against Jeff Suppan and the Brewers. Fukudome! looks to extend his legend. My advice would be to call it a season and head back to Japan as the most popular man in the history of Chicago. Only heartache can result in a full season there. History proves it.

On the West Coast: Putz blows a good outing by King Felix, and Mariners fans are forced to drown their sorrows in a grande dark roast. I'm intrigued by tonight's start by new Mariner Carlos Silva. They paid a helluva lot for a no. 3 starter. Worth it? He's an innings pig; maybe he can go the full game and give Putz a night off to nurse his broken heart.

Scooter-Oh!

Well, thank god we're actually playing ball tonight. If the rain erased another Jays opener, I'd have been forced to discuss something bogus and dull, like another slight and inconsequential brush with a former Blue Jay, in this case the time my dad sat next to an unemployed Kelly Gruber on a flight somewhere. As it is, we're playing ball, and I can save that nugget for another day. Good thing, too, because once that load was blown, I woulda had to resort to truly abysmal material, like my quest to drink 3 liters of milk today before it goes bad (chocolate syrup helps). For realious.

But! The rain has magically and mysteriously been held at bay, and the Jays and Yanks are tangling on TSN. And oh my! Marco Scutaro! Stealing bases! Fun fact: with 2 swipes, he already leads the 2007 Jays.

I've liked Scutaro the feisty Venezuelan (is there any other kind?) since I snagged a foul ball of his in Ottawa during his (lengthy) AAA days. He was with either Indianapolis (Brewers) or Norfolk (Mets) at the time. He was waaaay out in front of a breaking ball and he fired it down toward the third base dugout. It took one big hop and headed straight for me, sitting in the first row behind said dugout. I deflected it with my one free hand - the other cupping a beer - and it flared harmlessly straight over my head. When it came down again, it landed softly in that same hand, and nary a drop of beer was spilt. The ovation I got from the crowd was nice, but even better was the lingering look I got from Marco, a look of respect. It was brief, in the larger scale of things, but it was there. There was a recognition, an unmistakable vibe, a flash of respect from one man of the world to another. His look said, "Nice snag, mang." I returned him a nod that said: "I feel you, Marco."

As for this game, things have looked pretty good until - as I write this - the Yanks have loaded the bases in the 7th. A solid play by Hill to save a blown play... fuck, I love baseball! And then Doc Ks Melky Cabrera, forcing him to atone for his earlier sins against Jaysdom (Joe G: put Damon back in CF!).

Life is good again. After this one ends, King Felix - another feisty Venezuelan - takes the hill in Seattle. Sleep be damned.

Alright look, I don't pretend to be as entertaining a liveblogger as the Drunkards. I'm drinking chocolate milk tonight, not libations. Head on over there for sloppy hilarity.