Wake up, Fish are up 5-0 in the top of the first, Tom Glavine's out of the game already. Nice job Muttsies! First Phils batter, J-Roll, singles and steals second. So far, so good.
Mets have the bases loaded in the bottom. Unfortunate. Rollins steals third. My internet connection at home is fucking up. I wonder if you can buy liquor on Sundays before noon in CA.
Utley ropes a liner to right, Rollins scores on the sac. Manufacturing runs. Not clogging basepaths. MVP!
Howard Ks, back to the most appropriate name in all of sports: Flushing. It appears D-Train got out of that jam. 7-1 Marlins. I wonder if they sell champagne at that Asian market down the street.
Moyer fans Wily Mo Pena on a 78 mph pitch. I can't tell if it's a changeup or a fastball. He's crafty! And I don't mean like those Latinos! I was worried about him needing to outpitch fellow quadragenarian Tom Glavine today. Well, he's done that already.
On a full count, Jesus "Tres" Flores provides the first pucker moment of the day with a long fly foul to left. Then Moyer fans him! I need a beer so badly ...
And they cut to a Tony Gwynn commercial. I don't know why this is on, but it's AWESOME. Begins with Fat Tony getting the HOF call and crying. Then highlights of Skinny Tony, then he shows us a bat with lots of little dimples within a three-by-three inch circle. Contact points. This is really good, but I still don't know what it's for. And they interrupt it to show Rowand hitting.
Call me a homer -- there is no better play-by-play voice in baseball than Harry Kalas. He's so soothing in situations like this! Not like Phillies fans would know, but still!
Pat Burrell smokes a deep liner! Get back! Get fair! Get ... three feet foul. Fuck.
After this inning I am sprinting down to the liquor store. I feel like a bad person for not taking care of this last night. I hope my Phils don't need me while I'm gone. It's like being a bad parent. Seriously -- if I ever have a kid, I won't care about it significantly more than the Phillies, so I'll probably wind up doing things like this to that poor child. "OK, Dykstra, you stay right here in the bathtub. I'm going to the corner store to buy some dad-soda. Be right back!"
3 outs. I gots my running shoes on!
Back at the crib. Now 3-0 Phils, not sure how. Still 7-1 Fish but looks like the Mets have the bases loaded. Just hit the liquor store and bought some beer and a little of the bubbly. Korbel, the good stuff. When the Iranian dude at my neighborhood liquor store saw the champagne, we had the following conversation:
"I hope that's for when the Niners win."
"Actually, it's for the hooker."
"Well, we've got one cheaper than that."
Willis has walked the bases loaded and been removed. Not good. Lo Duca hits a dribbler to the pitcher. Inning over. Mets have left 8 on base already.
Back in Philthy, Moyers fans his fourth. Gramps is dealing. This is so big.
And just as I say that, the Nats score their first run on a Kearns single. Burrell makes a good throw but can't quite get him. It's unearned because Greg Dobbs made a throwing error to let Belliard on. Wily Mo up representing the tying run. And, on cue, my fucking internet connection cuts out.
Don't you fuck with me, Comcast. Not today. I will cancel your ass so quick your head will spin. If this happens one more time I'm driving down to the Bunker to watch the rest. And taking the champagne with me.
Between-innings observation: San Francisco is the stupidest place in America to be a sports fan. There isn't a decent sports bar within three miles of my house, and on the biggest day of the baseball season, a day when there are also a half-dozen decent football games, the only sporting event on my television is Raiders/Dolphins. Say it with me now: WHAT THE FUCK?
Uh ... the Nats are going to the 'pen? It's the fourth inning! Bergmann gave up three hits and three runs in three innings. You're telling me the Nats have someone better? That's a good day for Adam Eaton!
Oh my goodness! Albalawhatever, this new Nats pitcher, just drilled Carlos Ruiz right in the chest. I'll say to him the same thing I said to the hooker: Take it on the chest, Chooch!
I apologize for that last one. Please, God, don't punish me by bringing in Rod Barajas!
11:57 and I just finished my second beer. I should have bought a twelver -- at this rate, I'm going to be drinking Two-Buck Chuck from the bottle by the bottom of the eighth.
The funny thing about this liveblog is that you're just waiting for everything to go to shit, and for me to get wasted and belligerent, since this is a Philly sports event and that seems to be the script. And I'm waiting for the same thing. Enjoy your schadenfreude; I'm opening the my third beer.
Speaking of schadenfreude, I click over to Florida, where the Mets are on their third pitcher, the Fish have two men on with one out, and it's still 7-1 Maaalins.
Out of disgust and contempt for the state of this city's fandom, I change the channel from the Raider game to ... Houston Dynamo at FC Dallas! En Espanol! Si se puede, Dynamo!
Make that 8-1. Biting my tongue ...
Jimmy Rollins makes a beautiful play to get Nook Logan. Best defensive shortstop in the NL. Seriously, give that guy the MVP. He came to play today. Odd how nobody's making fun of him anymore for that preseason comment about the Phils being the team to beat.
Moyer's pitch count is creeping up. We're in the fifth. God, please don't make me watch the Philly bullpen. Not yet -- I've only had three beers!
Back to the pitcher, three outs! We're through four and a half! We're official!
Between-inning aside: my brother recently bought me, for some occasion I can't remember, a personalized Phillies jersey with my last name on the back and number 69. It's the frattiest thing I own, and I've actually never worn it, on principle. But the Utley jersey's dirty, I threw out my Thome home gear, and everybody knows it's bad luck to wear a road jersey during a home game. So out comes the B. Secessionist gear. I'm sitting at my kitchen table in a Phillies hat and personalized Phillies t-shirt jersey, staring at a laptop as if I'm looking at porn again. My roommates keep giving me looks. I am presently the biggest douche you've ever seen.
Have I mentioned how much it sucks living in SF and being a sports fan, especially of an East Coast team? It's noon and it's the fifth inning! The Sunday night Eagles game (which I am loath to even consider right now) starts at 5:15.
Ryan Howard gets an infield hit! Call Ripley.
MLB.com reporting that Carlos Delgado broke his hand earlier when he got hit by a Dontrelle Willis pitch. Hate to see that happen, even to a Met. (See, folks? I'm trying to be classy!)
On a related note, Carlos Ruiz is out of the game after also being hit, and Chris Coste has replaced him. Thank you, Lord, for sparing me Rod Barajas. I hope it doesn't come to this, but imagine if Chris Coste, the folk hero, comes up in a clutch situation later today.
Belliard leads off the sixth with a single. I hate Ronnie Belliard so much. He's so dirty-looking, that stupid hair, always licking his lips.
Tom Gordon is up in the 'pen. DON'T DO IT, CHARLIE!
CBP has gone quiet. What's wrong with you people? It's the sixth inning of the biggest game that ballpark's ever seen and you're winning! Get your asses out of the seats!
Ryan Zimmerman has complained about every strike that's been called on him. And Moyer rings him up looking! Take that, you whiny cunt!
Dmitry Young singles. Two on, one out. And Chahlie's coming to get Moyer. Tom "Flash Flood" Gordon trots out. I need another drink.
In case anybody's interested, it's 0-0 halfway through the first half at Pizza Hut Field. Also, it's a beautiful day outside. And I'm at my kitchen table, drinking two beers at once. I'm not even waiting to finish the old one anymore. I might need to go to the liquor store again soon.
Flash's third pitch ... ground ball to Utley ... tags, throws ... double play! I stand up, clap, and shout, "DP, baby!" In the other room, the hooker starts crying.
Oh, and they're throwing at Pat the Bat's cabeza! Better not throw him a strike next pitch. Nope, they walk him, and Bourn comes in to run. I don't like the idea of pulling the Bat this early. Just going on the record.
Chris Coste in his first at-bat. Bourn rolling. Don't like the steal here. And they drill Coste! You listen to me, Saul Rivera, you Mexi-Jew: IF YOU KNOCK OUT OUR TOP TWO CATCHERS AND THEY HAVE TO BRING IN ROD BARAJAS, I WILL RIP OFF YOUR HEAD AND SHIT DOWN YOUR NECK!
Abe Nunez with a byooootiful sac bunt to advance the runners. That's good NL baseball! Move 'em over! Now come on, Iguchi! Calculate us a double!
And they're bringing in Luis Ayala from the bullpen. What the fuck, Nats? Is this such a big game for you that you need to trot out your whole fiery bullpen? This is like the fucking Washington Inquisition.
First pitch, deep fly to center! Atta kid, Tad Iguchi! I rove the way you play basebarr! 4-1 Phils, J-Roll up.
The shadows are brutal right now at CBP. That's a good thing, when you've got our bullpen. No, Charlie, that does NOT mean you can bring in Jose "Brush Fire" Mesa.
ROLLINS WITH A DRIVE TO RIGHT! IT'S DEEP! IT'S ... OFF THE WALL. COSTE SCORES! ROLLINS HEADED FOR THIRD ... AND HE'S SAFE! POINT TO THE SKY AND GIVE ME THAT FIST PUMP, BABY BOY! THE PHILS ARE UP 5-1. YOU JUST WON THE MVP!
Victorino grounds out and the crowd gives J-Roll a standing O on his way back into the dugout. Jimmy Rollins' line so far, in the biggest game he's ever played: 2-3, 3b, RBI, 2 runs scored, 2 SB. He also made his 162nd start this morning. I don't want to hear a goddamned word about Matt Holliday ever again.
J.C. Romero in for the 7th. He's our best reliever. Does this mean Myers is going two? I don't understand. They already used Gordon, and if I hear the words "Condrey" or "Mesa," I'm jumping off my balcony.
Milwaukee has just tied the Pads? Harry Kalas is questioning the decision not to start Peavy. Romero fans his second this inning. God, I hope the Pads or Rockies win. I'm not taking this Phils game for granted, but I don't want the Mets to have any chance to make the playoffs.
Romero gets the third out on a pop to left. At the stretch it's 5-1 Phils. The Mets are losing. I have no idea what to do with myself right now. Time to open the last beer of the sixer. It's 1 p.m. SI SE PUEDE, PHILADELPHIA!
The Niners game is on. Yay.
Cut back to Philly for the bottom of the 7th. They give an update: Mets still losing 8-1 in the eighth. A Phils fan holds up a sign that says, "We believe, Tug!" Don't do that yet! Don't make me get all misty! This game is not over, chief! FOCUS!
And I've lost my internet stream. Cut to a window that says "MLB Mosaic is currently unavailable." WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU, MLB.COM! I WILL COME DOWN TO YOUR OFFICES AND KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU MISERABLE COCKSUCKERS IF I DON'T GET TO SEE THE END OF THIS GAME! IT'S GOING TO BE LIKE WYATT EARP AFTER THEY KILLED MORGAN! HELL'S COMING WITH ME!
... and we're back. I missed a run, apparently by Ryan Howard. It might have been a homer. But that's fine. It's fine. We're all fine.
I want to know who's coming in for the eighth. Are they going to throw Myers for two innings? Leave Romero in? I wouldn't mind seeing Romero go until he gets in trouble, and then bring Myers in if you have to in the eighth. Hell, I wouldn't mind seeing Cole Hamels come in right now -- do what you gotta do, Charlie.
They show a replay. Howard hooked one to the second deck. I love that guy. Kalas reports that it looks like Romero's coming out for the eighth, with Myers warming up. Charlie, you listen! I love it when you listen!
With two innings to go in both games, the Phils are up 5 runs and the Mets are down 7. I'm not taking anything for granted. But I'm starting to get the sniffles.
Felipe Lopez lines a single to lead off the inning. Breathe deep.
Ground ball up the middle! Four ... six ... three! Double play! Here comes that chumpy whining bitch Ryan Zimmerman again.
Romero strikes him out! That's three Ks this game, bitch! Suck it!
One more inning. I cannot believe this. Last night I was telling my roommates to do a suicide watch tonight, in case the Phils and Birds both lost.
Enough of that talk. These games are not over.
At this point I am getting consistent chills.
STREAM ERROR? Don't you fucking do this, mlb.com. Don't you toy with me.
...and we're back.
Wes Helms is pinch-hitting. J-Roll's on deck and the crowd's already chanting, "M-V-P." Enjoy it, Wes Helms. It'll never happen again. Harry Kalas clarifies: "That's not Wes Helms they're cheering for." I love it!
Word I've never heard, from the mellifluous baritone of Harry Kalas: "The Phils are three outs away from clinching the NL East."
Back to a GameCast of the Mets. Two outs in the ninth, two strikes. Brett Myers is in. The towels are out. The crowd is going ballistic. I have never been this happy about a baseball game.
LUIS CASTILLO STRIKES OUT SWINGING! THE METS HAVE LOST! CBP IS APOPLECTIC! NEVER SAY PHILLY FANS ARE BAD AGAIN!
And Myers strikes out Dmitri Young! Two outs away! AHHHHHHHHHH!
Strike, strike. Myers is dealing.
Pop out to left! One out away!
C'mon, Myers! Beat him like he's your wife!
STRUCK HIM OUT LOOKING! IT'S OVER! THE PHILLIES ARE THE CHAMPS!
FUCK YOU, METS! FUCK YOU, METS! FUCK YOU, YOU DIRTY DIRTY METS!
THE PHILLIES ARE THE NL EAST CHAMPIONS! THE PHILLIES ARE THE CHAMPS! 14 YEARS I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS!
THE PHILLIES ARE GOING TO THE PLAYOFFS!
Fuck this blogging shit -- I'm popping the bubbly!