I've held my pessimistic side at bay for as long as I can. Old Rubie's back, and he's got some shit to get off of his chest:
FUCK THIS TEAM.
For the last week, all we've heard is this bullshit about trying to land Roy Halladay. Thankfully, the fucking incompetent shits put an end to that nonsense tonight, showing that, at best, this is a middling .500 team. Fuck, this group would be lucky to be within shouting distance of the wild card leader at the end of August.
There are two Jeff Suppans in the starting rotation (one is named Jeff Suppan, the other is named Braden Looper), and we've employed two fucking Jorge Julios in the first half of the season. One (the Original George) got himself cut after putting up an ERA near 7.00; the other -- who's got all of the real Jorge Julio's gas can qualities, except he doesn't have a 93 mph fastball -- is certain to be DFA'ed tomorrow, if he hasn't been already. (In fact, you could say that Carlos Villanueva finally lived up to his name tonight: after allowing the Dodgers to put up six runs in the 10th, there's no question Chuck will be pitching in a New fucking Town in the near future.)
Our manager sees fit to have an 83-year-old catcher leading off (Earth to Macha: the version of Jason Kendall that had an OBP over .350 stopped playing baseball FIVE FUCKING YEARS AGO). We're carrying three fucking third basemen on the roster; one is being paid $6 million a year to be an occasional ninth-inning, defensive replacement, the second is -- alright, fine, McGehee's been a nice surprise, and the third -- who's just a talented left-handed hitter in a line-up that features one regular left-handed batter -- apparently has to give Ken Macha a fucking ZJ to see any kind of consistent playing time.
Our closer's fastball tops out at about 84 mph, which makes it all the more asinine when Brian Anderson compliments an opposing hitter for "staying back" on Hoffman's change-up. Uh, Brian? When the dude doesn't throw any harder than 84 mph, all the hitter ever has to do is stay back. For Christ's sake, the batter could finish a fucking Sodoku in the time it takes Hoffman's fastball to get to the fucking plate. (In related news: yeah, it's not really a shock that the Padres let Trevor walk after last year. The shocking thing is that we've gotten conned out of $15 million over the last two years by used-up change-up specialists.)
Our rightfielder began the season showing more plate discipline, which seemed to be a wonderful thing, until it became apparent that his new-found patience came at the expense of him actually being able to hit the fucking ball. Our original second baseman can't swing a bat without his wrists asploding. And, to top it all off, our leftfielder feels his talents are better used as an assistant general manager than as, you know, the best player on the team.
So, yeah: this has all the makings of a team that's one 32-year-old former Cy Young winner away from a deep run in the post-season. GodfuckingdammitalltoSouthBend.