Clocked

Jesus, there's not much to say about that game, is there? 7-0, the Jays running rampant over the beleaguered Scott Baker. These things happen. If we were in a tight pennant race (division race... whatever), this day might be chalked up to luck--both the Tigers and Indians lost, and Kansas City has ceased breathing down our necks for fourth place. I mean, really, these are the games that make sportswriters and fans shake their heads. Is Dustin McGowan really that good? Are we that bad? These are the Blue Jays, for Christ's sake, and we're on the verge of being swept.

The Twins, I'm told, have not sent a runner across the plate in a dozen innings. Did I mention these are the Toronto Blue Jays. And that it's not 1992?

Even Pat Neshek got his clock cleaned. A dozen Twins left on the bases. OK, so Rondell White got a pair of hits. Good for him. Still, these games leave me queasy.

They call this sort of thing a roller-coaster ride. Win four, lose three, win two, lose three. Except roller-coasters aren't so predictably hilly--there's often twists and turns as well. Like, it would be a nice twist if the Twins won the last game and then went on a streak against Cleveland. But I'm dreaming, just hoping for an August and September that won't drain the soul of this baseball fan.