Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Jose Alberto Pujols is God. Amen.

Sorry for the ridiculous third post in a row within a matter of hours - I must seem like one of those stream-of-consciousness people, which I'm not. And I've never been accused of loquacity either, so this probably comes as a surprise and won't happen again once I get over the first transcendent high of new bloggerdom. But I couldn't let this pass unremarked, and especially not after the gut-wrenching loss that the A's just suffered at the hands of the Twinkies. I happened to look up at the St. Louis game, which I was following only marginally after Jeff Weaver screwed the pooch, and noticed that the final score was Cards 6, Astros 5. It had been 5-4 Astros going into the bottom of the ninth, and I had just braced myself for that devastating double-loss day when neither of my teams can get their heads out of their collective asses and instead meekly hand the game to the other team. Nes pas, when Albert Pujols is in the building.

In case you are not aware, Brad Lidge (Astros closer) is Albert's bitch. I will never forget watching NLCS Game 5 on a television purloined from my grandmother (in our defense, she was out of town and would have had no objection even if she did know) and watching Albert launch that colossal moonshot in the top of the ninth to win the game for the Cards. My sister and I jumped out of our seats and danced around ecstatically. Seriously. Then Mark Mulder, who's fast slipping in my good graces after his terrible season this year, gave it up in Game 6, but you know. Can't have everything and all that.

So, El Hombre worked his magic once again tonight. Two runners on, two out, Cards trying not to follow up Chris Carpenter's gem with a Weaver-piloted clunker. Albert yanks one to left field, Busch Stadium goes berserk, happy feelings abound. Except, not if you're Brad Lidge, and have been presented with resounding proof that you are, in fact, still Albert Pujols' bitch.

That's gotta be in his head for a loooong time now.

Roy Oswalt vs. Jason Marquis tomorrow. My usual expectation of Marquis is that he will suck, and I'm usually not disappointed in this regard. Right now, please join me in this heartfelt and entirely unsarcastic plea:

LET'S GO CHICAGO WHITE SOX!!!!!!

(why, you might ask? They are playing the LaAAAaAAA, only one of the most evil teams on earth).

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