Let The Man Hit!
Oh, so briefly: a preview of Michael Moore's Sicko kept me from tuning into the ballgame tonight. Tho' I have to admit the radio would seem like cold comfort for not giving me the vision of Burt Blyleven getting his mane sheared. You just can't beat that, can you?
So the Twins took yet another game from the long-suffering Mets, leaving me somewhat thrilled and also feeling like I'm being abused somehow. Can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's the fact that we take a series from a first place team, and yet it still lacks that triumphant flair. After all, we lost recently to the fucking Nationals, who were utterly creamed by the Tigers. Now we're going to Florida, and who knows what the hell's going to happen there, right? By all accounts we should win that one, but we'll probably get swept, the way this season's going.
Having missed this game to watch what should rightly be considered Moore's best film (shut the hell up, you say; you're right, this is a baseball blog), I turn instead to the box score. Here in the senior circuit, the summary's a bit more chaotic, what with the relievers being taken out for pinch hitters. Anyway, Scott Baker had a nice little night on the mound, lowering his ERA a half run (from 7.33 to 6.75), striking out three times as many batters as reigning Cy Young winner Johan Santana did in his last outing, but failing to get a single hit in one of his rare at-bats. Which, of course, is just fine.
But I will say this: does Pat Neshek, who has possibly the most unique delivery of any pitcher in the majors, have an equally bizarre batting stance? Let the guy hit when the game's out of reach in Florida, I say. Not that he had the opportunity tonight, but still, I bet the guy's as much of a freak at the plate as he is on the mound...