Game #142 // Sixth Inning, Tampa Bay // The Rays Take Flight

BOTTOM OF THE SIXTH: RAYS 5 (0) – 4 ANGELS

 

A good old fashioned singles parade.

And this little Rays team that could, vaulting into first place in the AL East.

 

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Game 141 // First Inning, Philadelphia // The Arizona Diamondback-to-back-to-backs

TOP OF THE FIRST: DIAMONDBACKS 3 (0) – 0 PHILLIES 

 

Dyson. Marte. Peralta.

Batter one, batter two, batter three.

 

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Game 140 // Eighth Inning, Washington D.C. // The Marlins Are Out of Water

BOTTOM OF THE EIGHTH: NATIONALS 12 (8) – 9 MARLINS

 

About time we enjoyed a good old fashioned cellar battle.

If we take “Marlins” to mean: That perennially bad team at the bottom of the N.L. East…

Then we have here tonight a game of Who Are the Real Marlins:

The Marlins, or the Nationals?

 

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Game 139 // Third Inning, Seattle // The Twins Are Back

TOP OF THE THIRD: TWINS 10 (5) – 0 MARINERS

 

There was the era of Kaat, Carew, Oliva, Killebrew.

Then Puckett and Hrbek.

And on to Mauer, Morneau, Torii Hunter.

Does a new one begin right now?

 

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Game 138 // Ninth Inning, New York // Giancarlo’s Yankee Moment

BOTTOM OF THE NINTH: YANKEES 7 (5) – 5 MARINERS

 

“We have been waiting,” says Michael Kay, as Stanton walks up to the plate, “for his signature Yankee moment.

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Game 137 // Third Inning, Milwaukee // The Tyler Chatwood Situation

BOTTOM OF THE THIRD: BREWERS 4 (2) – 0 CUBS

 

“We might not win this one,” your dad says, ignoring his own hopelessness as he turns on the game feed and the first inning begins.

“It’s Tyler Chatwood Day.”

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Game 136 // Ninth Inning, Chicago // Praise You, Jason Heyward

BOTTOM OF THE NINTH: CUBS 7 (3) – 5 PHILLIES

 

We’ve come a long, long way together. Through the hard times and the good.

 I have to celebrate you, Jason.

 I have to praise you like I should.

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Game 135 // First Inning, Houston // My Oh Mariners

FIRST INNING: MARINERS 4 (0) – 0 ASTROS

 

Stuck on a desert island, a bearded man receives a message in a bottle. A newspaper, from North America, washed up onto the beach, rolled up and wedged in with a cork, the sports section visible through the glass.

He finds it, sees it, reads it. An hour later starts a bonfire and writes three letters into the sand. M.O.M.—digging them giant, tall, enough to catch the eye of any pilot overhead.

“My oh my,” he says to himself, prostrate, worshipping the paper, the score, the standings. The very bottle itself.

“My, oh my.”

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Game 134 // Ninth Inning, St. Louis // The No-Namers

BOTTOM OF THE NINTH: CARDINALS 10 (5) – 8 PIRATES

 

The Cardinals are scraping by. Week by week. Plumbing the depths of decent, of well-roundedness—and, in a way we don’t know how, scraping their way into contention.

They’re down 8-5 in the ninth.

And a string of no-namers comes up: Bader, Voit, Munoz.

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