Naturally, I have already vented my spleen about the vulgarities of tonight's Orioles game, just another road bump on the way to 100 losses and another lifeless, cover-your-eyes-ugly September full of anonymous quadruple-A sacrificial lamb players. A blown three-run lead by the back end of our bullpen, the only guys left out there who are supposed to be dependable. Five runs on fifteen hits. Horrendous situational hitting and baserunning. Nick Markakis being left on the bench while the Lou Montanezes and Jeff Fiorentinos floundered at bat in extra innings. Whatever. This is one of those days when I wonder why I even care about this laughingstock, and whether things will ever change, and why I let myself get so angry about the whole damn thing.
I'm so disgusted that I'm subjecting you to Jose Morban and his mismatched uniform-and-team-identification on a hideously ugly card and his wasted roster spot in 2003 (.141/.187/.225...that's an OPS+ of NINE. As in, 91% below league average). I'm sorry, but baseball is not for the faint of heart.